The Monkees Chronicles-Act 1-First Draft
by MonkeeVeggieGirl
Summary: Three young men wake from a coma, not knowing who they are. Can this Professor help them regain what was lost, and will they be able to find their lost friend? - Rated M for sexual themes, drugs and violence.
1. Part 1: Shattered

Once his eyes opened, the young man hacked and coughed. Why did his throat feel so dry? As if someone had filled his lungs with sand? And more importantly, where was he? From his surroundings, it looked like some kind of hospital room from a very bad horror flick. There was even the old broken mirror cliché that reflected a jagged version of him. Or was it him? This lad didn't recognize the brown eyed man staring back at him. But he did hope it was him, with that hansom face. Sure, he looked a little like a girl with his slightly long brunette hair, but it could be worse.

A loud crash rang out, startling him. It sounded like a tray of silverware falling onto the floor. The confused boy gulped. Someone else must be in this building. But who or what would be in a place like this . . . besides him? He cautiously moved his feet from the uncomfortable rollaway bed to the stained tile floor. When he tried to stand up, both his legs and arms shook uncontrollably and it felt like small hammers were pounding the inside of his head.

How long had he been asleep? If only he could remember how he even got here. Would someone here know something? Once again he tried to stand. At first he stumbled, but once he grabbed the bed for balance and steadied himself, he managed to walk uneasily toward the open doorway and into the empty hallway.

Warily he looked both ways, like a child wanting to cross the road when it was safe, and noticed that there were many entryways that probably led to rooms like his own. Once he stepped out into the light of a bulb that hung loosely from the ceiling, he heard heavy footsteps and even heavier breathing. Within seconds someone stumbled out, eyes wide and body trembling.

"Excuse me,"

This fellow patient jerked his head up. "W-where am I? And, who are you?"

The young man shrugged his strong shoulders. "That's what I've been trying to figure out."

The panicked man looked down wearily, his long bangs covering hazel eyes.

"Don't worry, man. I'm sure we can find a way out of here. But first, we should probably see if anyone else is in this place." He began to walk down the empty halls until he stopped in front of the blond man. "Are you coming?" Instead of answering, the blond slid down and sat on the dirty floor. "Well, alright then."

The young man began to walk down the hallway to find a way out, but something stopped him. He turned and looked again at the pitiful fellow on the floor. Should he leave him here? It was quite obvious that the blond was scared from his ragged breathing and wide peepers, but he also looked like he didn't want to move. If he left him here, would the people that brought them to this place capture him? What if he never found an exit? The more the young man tried to talk himself into moving on, the more he realized that he couldn't.

He turned back, lifted the man up, and placed the man's arm over his shoulder. "Hang in there, we'll make it out."

"What are you doing?"

"Helping you, what else?"

"I-I think it would be better to just leave me."

After hearing this, the young man dropped him, and the blond landed with a loud thud. "You must be out of your birds! Who in their right mind would want to stay in a place like this?"

The blond looked up at him with watery eyes before looking away. At first the young man thought he hurt his feelings, but at the moment he didn't care. They both needed to get out and he wasn't going to leave anyone behind. Again he pulled him up and almost had to drag the blond along. This made it harder to go into every room to find other people like them, and the blond was starting to feel heavy.

"So," The young man asked after checking a room that looked like a nursery. "What should I call you, unless you want me to just call you 'Mister'?"

"Don't call me 'Mister', I'm just a kid."

"Then what should I call you?" No answer. "Mister it is then."

They continued on down the corridor, their bare feet almost sliding over the white tiles. The more the young man looked at the walls surrounding them, the more his head began to pound and ache. Even though brown water dripped through cracks in the ceiling, and even though the floor had patches of a dark substance that felt dry under their feet, the whiteness that broke through was blinding. Soon his head and shoulders screamed in pain, and his knees began to bend as everything began to spin, as if they were put into a blender. His hands slowly lost their grip and the blond once again fell to the floor. Mister turned his head toward him to ask him what caused this, when he saw that the young man had also fallen to the ground, but he wasn't moving.

* * *

The two men lying on the cold surface of the tiled floor weren't the only ones who were confused about their surroundings. A tall man put a head to his head until his brain didn't feel like it was bouncing off the walls of his skull. He too couldn't remember who he was or how he got here. All he did know that that he didn't want to share a room with that chair. It was a hideous thing, with long straps hanging loosely at its sides, and a strange looking box with a hole in the front of it. The more he stared at it, the more he tried to imagine what it was used for. Whatever its purpose, he hoped he would never find out. Once he felt like he could stand without falling over, he slowly made his way toward the doorway where a small beam of light shown through. For a moment, he thought that this room might be where you end up where you die. Maybe the light was Heaven, while the chair was eternal torture. But once he stepped into the soft glow, he realized that it was just a stupid dream. For there, laid out before him, was a long hallway that was just as horrific as the room he came front, and the light was simply a light bulb, which began to flicker on and off. Maybe this place he was in was eternal torture.

A sound echoed into his ears. Was it some kind of creature, a demon maybe? No, it sounded more like a human; a human crying. He quickly turned to his right and saw someone hunched over someone as he cried softly, like he was afraid someone would find them if he sobbed to loudly. A part of him thought it best to leave them, but it was overpowered by a strong determination to find out what was wrong, and maybe even find out where the heck they were. And maybe, just maybe, they knew who he was. With long strides he got closer and closer to the pair. As he did, he noticed that they were wearing the same light blue pants and shirts, the ones that felt like rubber and pinched his body hairs. The one who was crying must have heard him coming, or maybe heard the rubber pant legs scraping against each other, because he grew quiet before jerking quickly toward him, red puffy eyes wide.

"Please help him!"

At first the tall man was taken aback and jumped slightly. He had braced his body for if the blond man kneeling down wanted him to go away, and when the wet faced man sound those three words it took him by surprised. Once he calmed himself down he looked over the blond's shoulder to find another man, a much shorter man, lying face up. Before he knew it he was at the fallen man's side.

"Hey, are you okay there, Buddy?"

The baby faced man's chest moved slowly; too slowly for his taste. He gently placed his hand under the young man's head, hoping to get him to sit up straight, but he felt something wet and slightly sticky. His big hand pulled away to find that his fingertips were covered with something red.

"How did this happen?" The tall man got up and began looking around for something that might help stop the bleeding.

"He was…and I just…then he-," The blond swallowed, trying to control his sobs. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry," He walked into a small room and quickly did a quick search before coming out empty handed. "What you need to do is explain what happened."

The blond took a deep breath. "He was trying to help me, and he suddenly fell over."

"So he must have landed hard on his head."

"Is he going to be okay?"

He wanted to answer, but he had just entered another room where he saw an old pile of sheets, and he wasn't sure of the answer himself. At first he hesitated on grabbing one of the sheets. Anyone could tell that they have been here for at least a year. There were large holes in them and had patches of brownish orange stains. Finally he was able to work up the courage to grab the filthy things, and hoped that mice weren't responsible for their condition. When he came back to the hallway, the blond was sitting against the wall, with an expression that was a mix of confusion and worry. At least he wasn't crying anymore. He didn't want the people who put them here to find them. But of course, it looked like no one had been here for years.

As he began wrapping the short man's head with the sheet, making sure that the wound only touched the cleanest part, he looked over at the blond again. "Do you guys not remember who you are, or is it just me?"

"I don't remember anything. I just know that when I woke up, I was surrounded by trays. Trays and knives . . ." The blond paused for a moment to flip his head sideways and then up, to get his long bangs out of his hazel eyes. "I stumbled out, and made a small mess in there. I hope the person who owns them doesn't get mad."

"The person who owns them probably isn't even alive anymore."

The blond's head jerked up, concern covering his long face. "Why would you say that?"

"This place is probably months, years old. If all this stuff did belong to somebody, they wouldn't just leave them lying around." _Unless there was a poisonous gas that kept everyone away, and he were sucking it in right now._ He thought, but he didn't want to voice his worries and make things any worse.

"Oh . . ."

He examined the bandage once again, before grabbing the unconscious man and flinging him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Get off of there and help me find the exit."

Slowly the blond made his way to his feet. "Will he be okay, Wool hat?"

"Maybe, but I won't know until . . ." He stopped and turned his head toward the blond, who was slowly following him but now stopped behind him, wondering why he had called him that.

"There's one on your head."

He reached up and felt knitted fabric. How did he not notice it before? "Well, I guess I have a name then." He continued to walk along with the man hanging loosely. "What should I call you then? Button nose?"

"He called me 'Mister'."

"Any name is better than none."

"But he doesn't have a name yet."

"He'll be Tiny."

Mister's eyebrows lowered in puzzlement before realizing that it wasn't a very good name. "Will he like that?"

"Didn't I just say that any name was better than none?"

"Yeah, you did."

* * *

When he first opened his eyes, everything looked blurry and all sound was muffled. Something in front of him was making loud noises. He tried to move his head to clear it and pain shot up and down his head and neck. And actually, he was grateful to the pain. Because once he felt the sting jolt his senses cleared up ever so slightly. Now he could see a blurry version of Mister, and he could now understand what he was saying.

"See, Wool hat? I told you he was awake!"

"What's going on?" He tried to sit up straight, but the pain struck him again which caused him to try and sit back, which caused his head to hit the wall.

"Hold it there, Tiny."

He looked to his left and found that a dark haired man was standing close by. "What?"

"I told him you might not like your name." Mister said miserably, as if it was his fault Wool hat had thought of it.

It didn't take very long to fill Tiny in on what had happened while he was napping. Mister constantly sniffed when he explained the bit about them falling over, and apologized if his weight had played a part in his injury. They both tried to calm him down, and soon Wool hat was the storyteller as he described the rest in vivid detail. The part that caught Tiny's attention the most was the fact that this tall man also saw the world go topsy-turvy as he walked down the hallways, and if Mister hadn't been there to give him support, Tiny would probably have more than a head injury.

"It can't be a coincidence." Tiny exclaimed after telling them about his encounter with the spinning hallway. "Something in that hall up ahead is making us faint."

"It could be- . . ." Wool hat paused and watched their third companion wonder off, and he hoped he was out of earshot. "I could be wrong, but I think it might be a poisonous gas of some kind."

The young man shivered. "I hope you are wrong."

"That makes two of us."

"Hey guys," They both looked around, trying to find where Mister's voice was coming from, and saw that he was a few feet past the spot where Tiny had collapsed. "I can't go any further."

"Get back here," Wool hat demanded. Trying not to sound too harsh but failed to hide the fear stuck in his throat. "It could be dangerous over there."

"But Wool hat, look." His hand touched thin air, like a mime with an invisible wall, and a shiver rippled through the room. "I was walking when this crashed into me."

Wool hat could tell that it happened from Mister's red nose. "Do that again."

"I don't think I should. I might have broken my nose."

"No, no. I mean touch it again."

He did, but harder this time, which caused the ground and walls to vibrate. They were all silent for a long five minutes. What could be causing this kind of reaction? And even more important, was it dangerous? For all they knew, the ripples could cause the whole place to collapse on top of them. But then again, wouldn't a quick death be better than trying to escape such a place? They knew now that they couldn't get any further. Mister had proved that there was some kind of barrier blocking their path, and they knew that if there were toxins in the air, the three of them needed to get out fast. Wool hat motioned Mister over and explained what he should do; find a chair or small table and smash the invisible wall. It took some convincing. Mister was concerned that he would break it, but once he saw the urgency in his companion's faces he found an old chair that had somehow not rotted away or broken apart. He touched the invisible wall again, to make sure it was still there, and then he smashed the chair into it as hard as he could. The whole building shook with a vengeance, so much so that all three of them fell to the ground with a loud thud. Thankfully the only injury this time was Mister's hand when it landed headlong to the floor. They watched in amazement and fear as pieces of their surroundings began to come apart and then disappear. Even the furniture lifted into the air before deteriorating right in front of their eyes. Their gaze remained on the parts of the room that were still there, but even that disappeared, and now they were not alone. Now they were inside what looked like a large plastic box, surrounded by machines and people wearing long white cloaks.

The white cloaked figures kept on their expressionless faces as they pressed buttons, not even looked at the three men trapped inside the box. "Subjects m02, m03 and m04 have broken through failsafe system. I repeat. Subjects m02, m03 and m04 have broken through failsafe system."

* * *

After what felt like hours of banging against their plastic cage and shouting at the people who never even glanced their way, they sat on the floor, exhausted. All they could do was watch helplessly as men outside pushed dials, took notes and seemed to be talking to the air.

"I don't know about you guys," Tiny played with a piece of the sheet that was coming loose, "but I liked the other place better. At least then we thought we had a chance."

Wool hat let out a sigh. "I would rather know the truth of where I was," He looked around at the encasing, "even if it is worse than the lie."

He was holding his knees when Mister suddenly jerked his head up and looked toward the only doors, which were at least twenty feet away. "I think someone's coming."

At once their heads flashed to the large double doors as a man walked through, talking to the men working at the machines. "How are you boys? But of course," The stranger pulled up his cane and tapped the shoulder of a redhead holding a clipboard. "You never answer."

"Are you here to help us?" Mister had said it so quickly that Wool hat and Tiny had no time to react and tell him that you shouldn't ask strangers those kinds of questions right off the bat. For all they knew, he might be the undertaker.

"In a way, you could say that." With the end of his metal cane, he pushed a large red button. Within seconds the plastic walls sunk into the floor. "Welcome home boys. How was the trip?"

Cautiously, the three 'boys' came forward, stepping quickly over where the walls went down, in case they decided to come up again. Now that they were free, and had a better view without the barely see-through material that was the walls, they looked around their surroundings with a new interest. Thousands of blinking colored lights flashed on the dashboards like Christmas decorations, and all of the men in white coats had no pupils. Instead they had what looked like a small disc. Mister raised his hand, either from amazement or wanting to touch them, but Tiny grabbed his arm and pulled it down, ready to attack so they could break their way out if need be.

"You don't need to worry about them." This stranger must really love his cane, because once again he lifted it up, but this time he hit the man next to him over the head. The man didn't even flinch. And when cane hit skull, they thought they heard a sound like stick to a hollow metal box. "You see? They're not real."

"Like a lot of things in this place." Tiny began rubbing his arms, even though it was hot enough in there to cook a TV dinner.

"Well, we have lost a lot of time already, so let's hurry along."

"Wait a minute!" Wool hat's sudden shout caused them both to jump. "We wake up in some old building,"

"Find out it wasn't even real and that we were trapped inside a box," Tiny continued.

"And you expect us to just follow you?"

"Of course you will." When a minute passed and he realized that they weren't budging, the stranger ran his fingers through his thick gray hair. "Then, let me put it this way. You don't remember who you are, do you?" Their glances at each other gave him his answer. "I thought so. It's a side effect that happens in eh, 8, 9- Ah, 99.8 percent of the subjects."

"W-what side effects, and what subjects?"

He shrugged. "Well, including you, there are hundreds of others. But we can discuss this later, along with all your other questions. But first, you must follow me to where we can relax with a bottle wine."

"But we're too young." Mister pointed out.

The stranger smiled and shook his head. "Once everything is explained, you will find that you are well old enough to drink."

* * *

"So who are you anyway?" Wool hat asked as the stranger poured a red liquid into their glasses.

After they had left the detainment zone, there was a long hallway that seemed like it took forever and required lots of turning and going up and down flights of stairs. Once they came to a simple steel door, the stranger opened it and they found themselves in a large dining room with expensive furniture facing a large fireplace, and Mister cringed at the bear rug and animal heads. Soon enough the three tired companions dropped onto the chairs and couch and now they were being handed small whiskey glasses with beautifully painted leaf designs.

"I am the Professor." As he grinned they could see clearly his crow's feet.

"I mean _who _you are, not what."

"I am the Professor." The stranger slowly and shakily managed to sit in a chair that looked like it would belong to a basketball player. "Once you get a job like mine, you don't need names. But that is not important. You boys want to know why you are here, and who you are."

"Uh, yeah, we do." Tiny uneasily moved around in his seat, occasionally glancing at his glass. "So, can you help us?"

Now it was only Wool hat that was doing the cautioning. "He can help by being straight with us. Now, who are you?"

"As I said," The stranger's smile stayed plastered on his wrinkled face. "I am the Professor. Now how about we stop these childish ring-a-round questions and get to what is needed to be said." He waited until he knew that they were listening. "First of all, I know your names. They are Mike Nesmith, Davy Jones, and Peter Tork. There was also a forth one named, what was it? Micky . . . Dolenz I think it was."

"What happened to him?" Tiny asked.

"We don't know," The Professor's smile turned to an unknowing frown. "They say that some wires got damaged or something which allowed him to escape. But that is not important. Now, what was I saying?"

Mister raised his hand, like a child in class. "You told us our names."

"Ah yes, I did."

"Well not really." Tiny almost snorted. "All he said was the times, but not which name belonged to which of us." He watched as the blond's eyebrows lowered in confusion.

"That is right, that is right." The Professor started from the left and pointed to Wool hat, Tiny, and then Mister as he called out their names. "You are Mike, you are Davy, and you are Peter. Now that you have your names, may I continue?"

While they did want to hear more, they also wanted to sit back and soak in everything that was just explained to them. All this new information and names was being pounded into them, and they felt that they needed time to think about it, and to get a chance to remember their new names. But they all knew that wasn't going to happen. The Professor was already started to look impatient and tap his foot on the bear's fur. The three of them pressed their backs against the red, gold and velvet colored furniture and let him know that they weren't going to keep interrupting them; for now, at least.

"You boys probably have a lot of questions, so I will try to explain this quickly and simply. You see, you were all in a coma, a coma that lasted one hundred years. All of the doctors didn't know how or why you didn't age while you slept, but you didn't. From 1968 to 2068, you stayed in your state and many doctors threatened to 'pull the plug', as they used to call it. But they never did." He slowly got up from his seat to grab his drink, for the table was a good full foot away from his tall chair. "When I learned about you boys I began working on a machine that was to be used on people with amnesia. It is a device that will enter your brains and record your memories. So if you boys cooperate, I will use it to help you remember who you once were. Now, any questions?"

There was silence for a long minute as they listened to the firewood crackling. Which was pretty amazing since the fireplace wasn't even a real one, but a giant screen. Yes, they had questions. But which question should they ask first? For him to slowly repeat what he had said? That might aggravate him, making him think they weren't listening. Tiny, who was Davy now, lightly held the back of his head where it began to throb and worsen the headache that was fast approaching while the others tried to stare at something, anything, but the black eyes of the Professor, who was waiting impatiently for their queries.

"Can we please sleep on this?" Mike finally asked. "This is a lot of information and we really need to think it over."

"Sleep, how can you sleep after being in a coma for one hundred years?"

"We just want to rest and think about what you just told us."

The Professor let out a silent sigh, shaking his head. "Alright, if you walk up those stairs you will find the room I prepared for you. But don't wait too long. I will have dinner made while you decide." Before they could tell him how thankful they would be to have a meal for their hungry stomachs the Professor had gone into another room and closed the sliding doors behind him, leaving them alone with the screen fireplace, which was yet another thing that was fake.

* * *

There wasn't much of anything in their bedroom. Only three beds with white pillows and sheets, and a strange large cupboard that almost completely covered one of the walls. There weren't even any windows. When he saw the clean fabric on the beds made, Mike looked at the bandage that was ever so slowly slipping off the short one's head, revealing a large yellowish brown stain that made him want to puke.

"Before we do anything," Mike walked over to the cupboard and placed his hand on the cold handle, hoping there was something they could use in there. "We need to get you some proper bandages."

He opened it wide and the only thing that was in it, sitting neatly on the middle shelf, was a first aid kit. Maybe the Professor put it there when he saw how banged up they were? That can't be it; they were with him the whole time until he went into the other room downstairs. He must have put it there before they all arrived. Mike opened the box and pulled out the dressings and some small bottles that said on their labels that they were for applying on open wounds.

Without delay he opened the bottle to be greeted by a horrendous order that smelled like old paint. "Alright Ti-, I mean Davy, let me clean up that would for you." He turned toward Peter. "Do you need anything?"

"No," He shook his head before showing them his hand that was turning into deep shades of blue, red and purple around the bottom of his palm. "I just have a bruise."

Davy took off the old sheet and looked at the fabric in his hands. "You wrapped me head in this?"

"It was the best I could find." Mike protested. "Now hold still while I apply this on."

"Ow! Hey, that's smarts!"

"I thought I told you to hold still."

"You could have warned me."

After managing to rub the ointment on his cut through Davy's thick brown hair, Mike pulled out the long strap of dressing and wrap his head to the best of his abilities. When it was all done Davy felt some of his hairs being pulled from his skull and he could tell that the knot was coming loose with every movement. But at least this was better than what he had on before.

"Thanks." Davy's words caused his head to move more than the knot could handle and it unraveled.

"I guess we've just proven here that I wasn't a sailor."

As Peter began retying the bandage, he looked up at Mike. "Do you think he can really help us remember?"

"I don't know, Pete."

"Should we even trust him?" Davy asked when Peter surprisingly tied the knot perfectly.

"I don't know that either . . . But what else can we do? We don't even know where we are."

"So we have no choice, then."

"There's always a choice. We just don't have very good ones."

"Are you almost done up there, boys?" The Professor called up. "I have everything ready."

Their empty stomachs lead them down the stairs, wondering if they were famished because they hadn't eaten for one hundred years. If that part of the story was actually true. The three boys never said it, but all of them wanted to ask this 'professor' character to give them some answers, answers that actually make sense. When they reached the bottom of the steps all of them thought that the food was where they had seen the Professor disappear to, but before reaching the sliding doors, a whistle caused them to stop.

"Down here, boys."

The Professor was standing on some stairs that led down a flight of stairs, a flight of stairs that weren't there before. Reluctantly, everyone followed the old man down into what looked like an old basement turned into a lab. Davy breathed out sharply when he thought the smell that hit his nose was some kind of mold that was probably not good for your health. The others either didn't care or were great at pretending not to catch the odor. Once they reached the middle of the room, they all looked at the same thing. It was a machine that looked like a tanning booth turned into a very strange looking bed, like a bed made for toast.

"This is the machine I told you about, the one that will find your memories."

"What about our food?" Peter's stomach growled.

"You can eat after the experiment." The three boys looked at each other, and he could see that he was losing them. "You see, this machine requires you not to eat for at least an hour, like with swimmers. But once this is done," The Professor lifted a round lid off of a large silver platter and on it was the biggest turkey they had ever seen. But of course, this is the first time they remembered ever seeing a turkey. "Then you can have your fill."

Who could turn down such a feast? They could overpower the old man and just take it from him, but then what? The Professor would never trust them again and with them not knowing where they were, he could throw them into a world of desert or a toxic waste dump for all they knew. Even though their mouths began to water and drool threatened to overflow, they knew that to get the food, they needed to work for it.

Mike just hoped the man wasn't going to kill them after the experiment so he could have the turkey himself. "What do we have to do, exactly?"

"All you have to do is lie on the machine and I will do the rest."

After taking off his wool hat and handing it to Davy, Mike stretched his arms in then out and sniffed loudly, announcing in what he thought was a very 'masculine' way to do it, that he was giving one for the team by being the first to volunteer. He just hoped they wouldn't all pig out while he was doing, whatever the Professor expected him to do. Would he even be conscious? It would be great if he was so he could keep an eye on them, and the turkey.

Mike laid himself down, relieved that the machine was just big enough for him, and listened to the Professor's rants about not moving, relaxing as some sleep drug entered him, and he kept on reminding him every ten seconds to remember everything that happens, which to Mike didn't really make any sense. Remember, what, being hungry? He began to fidget with his fingers but the Professor's dark eyes glared at him so he stopped and tried to relax. It wasn't easy, with three people staring at you as if they expected you to turn into a chicken burrito at any moment. The Professor disappeared from view and he heard tapping noises and the machine made weird 'whooping' noises. At first it was annoying, but soon it was like a lullaby as his eyelids began to feel heavy and it got harder and harder to stay awake. Soon he was sound asleep, inside the tanning booth bed.


	2. Part 2: Acapulco

Before he knew it Mike was surrounded in darkness, and yet in front of him he saw images flash by, too fast for him to see what they were images of. Like when watching a ceiling fan spin, he tried to concentrate on an image and keep his eyes on that one. But of course, it didn't work. When he started to feel a migraine coming on, a voice pounded into his head. It was the Professor. What did he want?

"Can you hear me?"

"Uh, yeah, but where am I?"

"Do you see pictures flashing?"

"Well, I see something moving, but they're moving too fast to-,"

"Good, that is normal."

Mike saw nothing normal about any of this. "Then what am I-,"

"You have to concentrate. Concentrate on the flashing pictures."

"I tried that," He couldn't hide the frustration in his voice. "But they're moving too fast."

"You are not trying hard enough. The same pictures should repeat over and over. Keep an eye on them until you can fully see it."

"See what?"

The Professor let out a loud sigh. "The pictures are your memories. You have to choose one before the machine can pinpoint it."

Mike breathed in, annoyed with this whole thing. Couldn't the machine pick a memory on its own without his help? Isn't this why he got into this thing in the first place, to find his lost memories? If he could just pick one then he wouldn't need to be here. Once he managed to calm himself down he realized that complaining wasn't going to get him anywhere. It would be best if he did as the Professor said so he could get this over with, eat the turkey, and then maybe give that gray haired maniac a piece of his mind. Mike once again watched the images, and once again they just looked like colorful blurs. He was about to give up and tell the Professor to wake him up when he started to recognize some of the blurs. Yeah, they would disappear in half a second, but the more he watched, the clearer the images became. He began to see the inside of a house where instruments sat alone by a window that covered the whole wall, and for a moment he could smell the seaside, but he let his guard down and the images flashed by again.

"Now I think I'm getting the hang of this."

He tried again, and this time he was in a field of dirt where he saw large explosions in the distance. When one landed only a mere foot away and dirt filled his lungs it all disappeared. After seeing that, the cold blackness felt safe and comforting. There had to be a way to stay with one memory. After rubbing his throat, hoping that he would run into some more pleasant memories, he watched the images again, and this time he got it. First he saw that he was inside a car, and he was driving it. Once he blocked everything else out of his mind, and lived the dream, he could feel the steering wheel which felt wet under his sweaty hands. Wait, his hands were sweaty? He looked out the window and saw that he was driving on a beach, and the sun was high in the sky. There were voiced, mumbled voices. He looked to his side and saw Davy, looking out at the scenery with the window down. That's why he kept getting hit with busts of cold air. Soon Mike felt himself melting away, and now he wasn't himself. He was now his memory.

As the Monkeemobile continued to drive across the sands, Mike pondered whether he should ask Davy for the map or not. They already got lost once before. Thanks to that side trip in El Monotono they were two or three, maybe even more, days late for their gig appointment. The job was probably already gone. If only Davy hadn't fallen in love with that chick. No, if only he himself hadn't fallen in love. Davy's kidnapping and that whole deal with El Diablo took less than a day. If that was the only thing that had happened, they would have probably been at their destination by now.

"Natalie Wood . . ."

Mike took a quick glance behind him to see their drummer sleeping soundly, dreaming about his favorite actress again. If only they could all sleep, but someone had to drive. Davy was too short to see over the wheel and Peter would get easily distracted and drive them into a ditch or, like the last time, they would end up in another country. That was a trip they won't soon forget.

A loud pop and a long hiss stopped Mike's daydreaming. He knew what that sound was. They must have hit a rock and gotten a flat. Mike slammed his foot on the breaks, causing Micky, who was lying down in the back without his seatbelt on, to fly forward and land on the floor between seats.

"What happened, Mike?" Davy asked, hanging onto the chair for dear life.

"Didn't you hear it? We got a flat."

As their leader stepped out of the car Peter opened the door to follow. "That can't be good."

They all stepped out, Micky taking the longest, and they all stared at the tire, which was now as flat as a pancake.

"That's just great!" Micky shouted. "How are we supposed to get to Acapulco now?"

"Guys,"

"Do we have a spare?" Mike asked mainly himself before opening the trunk. "Nope, no spare."

"Guys,"

"We could walk."

"I don't know how they get around in England," Micky told him. "But here, if you walk you roast."

"Like a Christmas turkey on a winter's morn." Mike put in.

"Guys,"

"What Peter?"

"I think we're here." The only dirty blond of the group pointed at a large sign that said, 'you are now entering Acapulco'.

"Well that's convenient. Where are you going, Mick?"

In a second Micky was on the shoreline, searching for something. When he didn't find it he sulked back to his band mates. "Where are all the chicks? I thought there would be loads of them!"

"We're not looking for girls; we're looking for a spare tire. And hopefully that gig we were promised."

Their leader shielded his eyes from the scorching sun's rays as he studied the horizon, hoping to find somebody to point them in the right direction. Maybe he should have been specific about what kind of somebody he wanted, for while the four men stared out in the same path, Davy felt his back pocket move. He turned quickly to find a girl, a girl that had been trying to steal his wallet.

"Hey, what are you doing?" She ran off, short brown hair waving in the cool breeze. "Hey, that girl tried to steal from me."

"Well what do you know," Micky bounced his eyebrows in amusement. "There are girls in this world that don't fall in love with you."

As the young Brit gave his friend a punch in the arm, Peter watched her continue running down the beach. "Who do you think she is?"

"Someone I hope we don't run into again." Mike scratched his sideburn. "We barely have anything as it is."

They don't know why, but they then continued their search for someone who could help them by following the girl's tracks. Maybe they thought that she might lead them somewhere helpful. Maybe they wanted to make sure she never bothered them again. Or maybe they wanted her phone number. Whatever the case, the girl's tracks were soon covered by their own and before they knew it, the Monkees were standing in front of a small rundown building. And when I say 'rundown', I mean it looked like the whole thing was going to collapse at any moment. The four young men cautiously walked inside to find the girl, leaning over a counter, talking to the teenage girl behind it. Before Micky could start celebrating the fact that they were running into so many chicks, a large man whose head almost reached the ceiling entered the room.

The man turned to the girl behind the desk. "Shelly, you didn't tell me we had so many guests."

"They just walked in."

"Is that so?" He turned toward the Monkees and smiled wide, his booming voice causing the beams to shake. "Welcome to the Seashell! We're not open for a few weeks, but please make yourselves at home!"

As soon as Mike heard that name, he knew that this was the place they were coming for the gig. "Sir, we're the band that you hired."

"Oh! So you four are the Monkees! You don't look like monkeys!" He began to laugh at his little joke while Shelly rolled her lavender eyes. "I'm glad you could make it!"

"Yeah, you guys are only three days late." Shelly mumbled.

"Don't listen to her; my daughter over there is just worried about whether we'll be able to open the Seashell in time."

"No I'm not, you can have it." As she stormed off she grabbed the pickpocket's wrist and took her outside with her.

Shelly's father let out a sigh before smiling again. "Sorry about that. You know how emotional teenagers are. Let's get you four to work."

The Monkees looked around at their surroundings before Mike asked the question they were all thinking. "Where are we going to play?"

"Where are you going to play?" He let out another loud laugh. "No, you're here to help build the Seashell."

"What?" Micky cried out. "But we're not carpenters!"

"They're another group." Micky glanced at Peter before shaking his head at what his friend had just said.

"Didn't you get my message?" The father asked.

"Yeah," Mike admitted. "But before I could finish your note, something happened to it." He looked over at his band mates and their shoulders slumped.

"No worries," He grabbed a large box from the counter and handed it to Peter, almost causing the poor musician to fall over from the weight. "You're here now, and that's all that matters! Now, how about we get to work?"

Kurt Fisher was the name of the big hairy man, as the Monkees found out as they began work on the soon-to-be hotel. It was quite obvious from the start that they weren't builders. Peter would grab tall wooden boards – because he almost always was able to lift heavy things that the others couldn't – and when someone would call his name he would turn, causing the board to spin and hit the others, knocking them down flat. Luckily no one lost a tooth. At first Micky did the hammering, but after he kept banging his fingers instead of the nails and he would drop the hammer. Two times the instrument landed on his foot, and the other three hit his comrades, who were at the bottom of the ladder Micky was on. Mike and Davy didn't have as much trouble, and didn't cause as many injuries, but they had their fair share of trouble. Like paint in the eyes, nailing the wrong boards together, and Davy fell off the ladder, landing in the arms of Shelly. Before he could thank her though, she dropped him on the ground and stormed off. This just doesn't seem to be his day.

A hop, skip and a romp later the hotel was finished. It was pretty small, compared to the hotel the Monkees once stayed at in Manhattan, but for a beachside hotel it was pretty groovy. White and blue paint to match the ocean, windows that faced the waves and even a small kitchen that Kurt said would serve only seafood. Apparently he and his daughter love fish. The Monkees stood back, looking at their finished work and wondering what it would look like when people started coming in.

"Great job, boys!" Kurt slapped Davy and Peter's backs, causing them to fall over from his strength. "It looks perfect!"

"It was nothing." Peter told him as he got back up.

Davy began dusting himself off. "Well, it was something."

"Doesn't it look great, Shelly?"

The blond girl looked up at her dad as the Monkees wondered why she was so short when she had such a tall father. "It doesn't matter what I think. Not when Mr. Valdez is going to come and take it anyway."

"Mr. Who?" Mike asked.

"Mr. Valdez," She explained, in a way as if he should know who he was. "He's the guy who's been coming here, saying that if we built it he would buy it from us."

"But we're not going to sell it!" Kurt proudly admitted.

"Try saying that when his he gets here."

"When is he coming?"

As if to answer Mike's question, a long black limo sped across the beach, causing sand to fly in all directions. "Let me guess, that is Mr. Valdez."

The limo skidded to a halt only a few inches away from Peter, who almost fainted when he realized how close it came to him being road kill, and someone stepped out of the back seat. Mr. Valdez looked like a cross between a thug and a lawyer. He had golden rings on his fingers and ears, thick eyebrows, and a goatee. But on the other hand, he had straight – and very well groomed – hair and an expensive suit that cost at least a few hundred. It short, he looked like a mugger from New York trying to look like a rich business man. But from the holster they saw under his open jacket they guessed he probably still attacked little old ladies in the streets.

The clean criminal pulled out a cigarette and lit it as he looked at the Seashell. "A very nice place, Mr. Fisher . . . I'm surprised you finished it this quickly."

"I had some help." He admitted.

"Is that so?" Smoke escaped his mouth as he spoke. "Because I have some help also."

The Monkees watched as thug after thug got out of the limo, each uglier than the last. They began circling their prey and soon the Monkees and the two hotel owners were surrounded by men who were holding everything from guns, crowbars, wrenches, and one even had a fancy teakettle with a cute flower design.

"Are you reader to sign it over to me?" As Mr. Valdez said this, a short balding man in a suit cautiously stepped out of the car and handed him a piece of paper. "I have my lawyer and the contract. All you have to do is sign the dotted line." He began to chuckle to himself. "That is, if you can even write your name."

"You're a jerk!" Shelly, against her father's quiet protests, charged forward until she was face to waist with him. "You're a big fat jerk!" Mr. Valdez cocked an eyebrow at the fat bit, probably because in reality he was quite skinny. "I may not look it, but I'm strong enough to kick your sorry butt!"

Micky leaned over to Mike. "I'm surprised they didn't censor that."

"Well, it's not technically a curse word." Mike explained and Micky nodded in understanding.

"Put 'em up, Mr. Valdez!" Shelly raised her hands up and began swinging, but he merely rolled his hazel eyes as he held her back by placing his hand on her head and pushing her back far enough for her punches to only hit air. "You stupid, evil, no good, rotten . . ." Shelly paused for a long moment as she tried to think of a word to use, "something that means something bad!"

With a push Shelly fell over backwards and he pulled a pen out of his pocket. "Now, are you going to sign, or not?"

"I told you before, Mr. Valdez!" Kurt told him as Shelly tried to sooth her ego. "I'm keeping the Seashell!"

"Have it your way."

All of the armed men began to close in on them, getting their weapons ready to attack. Even the man with the kettle looked fierce, even if he was also wearing sneakers with pink shoelaces. He was probably raised by a mom who wanted a girl, or he was still living with his mother and she taught him how to dress and how to beat people with kitchen appliances. As they began to come closer and closer toward them, close enough to see their bloodshot eyes, everything began to swirl and grow dark. Mike held his head as he began to slip away from his memory, and soon he was back in the emptiness. What was that just now? While he remembered all of it, it all seemed too distant. Like the one who was with them, Micky. Mike knew he must be that forth coma patient that the Professor was talking about, but all he could remember of him was what he just saw. At least now he knew what Micky looked like. Maybe if they were ever allowed to go outside, they could try to find him. As he began to think of ways to ask the Professor if they could leave his home to search, he felt himself fading from this black room.

"Welcome back."

Mike blinked repeatedly as his brain became muddled. It took him a while to remember what just happened. "W-what just-,"

"I had to wake you up." The Professor explained as he pressed some buttons. "You were asleep for a few hours, and staying in that state any longer could damage your brain."

When his mind started to think more clearly he looked at the turkey, which had both its legs missing. "Where are Davy and Peter?"

"In their rooms, but first I need to ask you what you saw."

"Later," Slowly he got up and began heading for the stairs. "I gotta get out of this place and think."

The Professor tried to protest, telling him that it was important to know what happened in case some of the symptoms happened during the course of the procedure to know if his brain was handling the stress, but soon Mike was at the bedroom door, ready to ask them what happened to the turkey legs. But when he walked in, he saw that they both were pale and looked like they were going to hurl at any moment.

"What happened while I was gone?"

"We ate some of the turkey, and we threw up." Davy looked at Peter, who was asleep. "The Professor said that it was because we haven't eaten in so long, so our stomachs are rejecting it, or some other such nonsense."

Mike licked his lips, happy that he didn't eat and then toss his cookies, but also sad that such a great looking meal went to waste. "Did he say what we can eat?"

"Yeah, he said something about liquid foods. He says that either they will go down more easily and ease the stomach, or they won't feel as bad coming back up."

"I want to eat my food, not drink it."

"If you want to eat the turkey downstairs, be my guest."

"Suddenly I'm not hungry."

When Davy began to look a little better Mike explained to him what happened while he was in the machine. How he felt like everything was so familiar and yet he couldn't remember anything but what was shown to him, and after he explained his plan to find Micky he noticed that Davy had fallen asleep on him.


	3. Part 3: World War III

"We have to find this Micky person."

"And I already told you, many times now." The Professor injected the green substance into Peter's arm with the hospital needle, causing the blond to let out a quiet yelp. "You can't go outside yet."

"What is that stuff?" Davy asked, rubbing his arm where he had just been injected a minute ago.

"Weren't you listening the first time?"

"What are we going to do about Micky?" Mike carried on as Peter complained about the pain and Davy kept asking questions.

After a long sigh the Professor stroked his gray hair. Did these boys ever shut up? Yes, he understood that they were in a new world and didn't even know who they are, but that's no reason to drive him batty. Why couldn't they do what the Government taught everyone to do; to keep quiet and follow orders? If they went outside they would learn soon enough. It was tempting. But he also knew that these three boys wouldn't stand a chance. If they thought it was hard 100 years ago . . . Oh wait, they don't remember what it was like back then. They don't even know of the Vietnam War. Speaking of, was that memory Mike had seen - the explosions - that same war? The old man shook his head. He was getting sidetracked, and the three boys were still going on about this and that. When was he ever going to get some rest from this constant chatter?

"Alright boys, quiet down!" The Professor announced a little too loudly. "I have to go into town anyway. If you are all silent, I will explain everything."

Mike, Davy and Peter all looked at each other a moment before nodding.

"Good. Just wait here."

But he didn't get far before Davy asked, "So, what was the stuff?"

The Professor stopped in the doorway and slowly turned, trying to sound like an authority figure. But he just ended up sounding like a tired parent who wants a vacation away from the kids. "You were kept inside a concealment cage for one hundred years. The air you breathed is much different from what you are all breathing now."

"What does tha-?"

"If I hadn't given it to you, you all would be dead in a few days."

That silenced them for a moment until Davy gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks."

The Professor nodded and went into his room to get ready. He grabbed the air masks, cloaks, goggles, liquefied food for the boys, and a few other odds and ends that he knew they would need. As he did he thought about what that short one had just said. No one had thanked him for, well, he didn't know how long. It was a word long forgotten in this world, and he was glad he heard it again. Because after they see what's out there, they won't be thanking him anymore.

Getting them to wear the cloaks and masks was actually easier than he thought it would be, even if Peter did accidently put his mask on backwards. Maybe now they knew that if they didn't listen they might lose their lives. Maybe fear was the way to earn respect, even if they weren't afraid of him. Once they got on all their necessary gear the three young men followed their only friend to a short set of stairs that led to a trapdoor in the roof. The Professor stopped for a moment and let out a breath, trying to figure out in his head how he should explain what awaited them out there.

"Is everything alright, Professor?" Peter asked, his eyes growing wide with worry.

The Professor looked down at him from the top of the stairs but had to look away. He didn't know why, but he couldn't look directly into the blond's eyes. No, he knew exactly why he couldn't. "I'm fine. Just . . . watch out while you are all out there, and don't stray away."

After they all nodded in understanding the Professor also gave a slight nod before opening the door. A large gust of wind blew dirt and the type of smell you would only find after living in your toilet for twenty years hit their faces like a speeding Twinkie truck. Now the three boys were glad that they had put the masks and goggles on. If they hadn't the dust would have surely stung their eyes and the smell would have been unbearable. Peter lifted his hand to ask what kind of world they were about to venture into, but he remembered the promise of silence they had made, so he kept his mouth shut.

The door fell open with a loud clank and they all piled out, with the Professor in the lead. "Welcome boys, to the Terrestrial."

When their brains fuller processed what they were looking at, all three of them wanted to crawl back into the small and familiar surroundings of the old man's home and forget they had ever mentioned leaving it. Humans, if you could even call them that, walked slowly down filthy streets with their sunken eyes staring at nothing. As Davy avoided stepping in something that was covered with flies he tripped over something and landed on his behind. When the dust settled and he finished coughing he saw that what he tried over was, in fact, a half rotted corpse. He let out a short cry as he quickly jumped to his feet and ran to Mike.

"Another one gone, I see." The Professor announced, as if the body was a piece of fruit that didn't ripen for the harvest. He calmly walked over to the carcass and flipped it over with his cane. "You see there, the bullet hole in his head?" The Professor pointed toward a tall tower where a man holding a gun paced back and forth, his eyes never leaving the street. "He was probably caught stealing and got shot by the guards. You will do well to remember this. Now come on boys, while there is still daylight."

As he walked off Mike, Davy and Peter couldn't pull their eyes away from the body, which was covered with imprints where people have walked over the ounce living human. How could anyone live in such conditions? They would have begged the Professor to take them home, and maybe even find a way to erase any and all memories of ever coming here, but the Professor walked on while he called for them to follow. Not wanting to be left behind, they wordlessly shadowed him, constantly looking up to make sure they weren't about to be shot as well. As Peter tried to only stare at the ground, sidestepping filth that cluttered the earth they stepped on, the other two took in everything. They didn't know why they couldn't pull their eyes away from the wretched creatures that fought each other for food and clothes, children who clung to their mothers as if afraid they would disappear, and the few dead bodies that littered the streets.

"You see boys," The Professor took a long breath, which told them that he was going to do a lot of explaining. "Terrestrial used to be called the United States of America, the U.S.A. for short. But the president made some wrong choices, the enemy countries got their hands on weapons, and we were taken over. Since then the U.S.A. has become the largest prison in the world." He turned his head as he walked to see if they had any questions. Thankfully they were following orders by keeping their mouths shut, so he continued. "Now what used to be a place of freedom is where all criminals and Americans are put to starve, get shot, or somehow get into the District, which is where we are heading now."

Up ahead they could see what looked like a cross between a city and a crowded neighborhood that lay behind a tall wire fence. By looking at the picture on the fence that showed a stick figure getting hit with a lightning bolt, they guessed that it was electrified. Through the wire and the two large men in uniform holding the biggest sledge hammers ever made, they could see the very strange place up ahead. It was strange because here it looked like heck on Earth, but on the other side it looked, well, better. There were no bodies on the clean streets, and the few people they could make out from their position actually looked happy. That's why it was disturbing. How could those people get up every morning, knowing what was on the other side of the fence?

The Professor wasted no time in walking to the guard with a large tattoo on his face, making him look like an Orc from 'Lord of the Rings'. They exchanged a few words in a language that the three young men couldn't understand and with a nod from the 'Orc' the fence's blocked entryway was opened, causing another cloud of dust to fly their way. As Mike, Davy and Peter walked the Professor walk into the cleaner part of town they all nervously looked at each other. It wasn't too late to turn around and head home. Although they didn't know the layout all that well and would probably get lost. Before they could make a decision the Orc let out a low grumble in his throat that would have been funny if he wasn't so big and menacing. And Peter couldn't sworn – which he wouldn't have because he never swears – that he saw fangs. All three of them ran for it, into the spotless streets. Okay, so it wasn't spotless. A few trashcans stood outside most of the buildings and some pieces of litter caught the wind. But compared to the other place, this was Heaven.

They still couldn't get over the look of the place. The buildings looked as tall as the trees Mike had seen in his memory, and most of them were made of glass and metal. As they passed they could see the inside of the buildings. One had a man behind a desk while writing something down, two had a few men talking with cups of coffee, and with the last one they curiously gazed at they had to do a double take. Inside was a lady, the very first one they had seen since coming here, except for Mike of course, who saw two of them in his memory, even if one of them was no older than sixteen. And this one was beyond beautiful, wearing a very loose dress that looked like it would fall off at any moment, and long wavy hair that almost seemed to tenderly wrap around her. Too bad she had their back to them and a man, who also had his back to them, came and walked her into another room while his ponytail bounced back and forth. Soon enough the Professor noticed their absence, walked back, found them, and then convinced them to continue on, if they still wanted answers.

After they were willing to leave Mike finally spoke. "Look, I know we're not supposed to ask questions yet, but we gotta know what's going on."

"You will find out soon enough," was all the Professor would say.

It seemed like hours when they finally reached their destination, which was a small glass building sandwiched between two tall ones that reflected sunlight. The three curious boys painfully stepped inside to find an empty white room with five doors leading to who knows where, and one of them was slightly open, exposing a large blue eye. At first they jumped when they saw it staring at them, but after some squinting they also saw puffy lips and a dainty hand. It was another girl.

"Hi," Davy announced, which caused the mystery girl to slam the door shut. "What's with her?"

"Sorry about that," The Professor apologized on her behalf. "You will soon understand."

Davy's shoulders raised then fell in frustration. Why didn't he just explain everything right now? But after thinking about it, he realized that the Professor had explained a lot of things, and he couldn't remember any of it. Everything was still moving too fast, his legs already felt weak from the walk, and his stomach wasn't feeling great either. After a quick glance at Peter, he saw that he wasn't the only one.

The Professor led them into a small room full of wires that they almost tripped on and a giant screen that covered a whole wall. "World War III."

The computer suddenly turned on, revealing many images of a horrific battle, as the giant device began to explain the images. It was well over two hours of useless talk, but to make a long story short World War III was the last war up to date. America was slowly growing weaker and continued to change for the worst. Their president brought on laws that made many lose their jobs, and made them unable to keep their homes. Soon the country was in chaos. Those who believed in God were slaughtered, crime grew, and riots burned down the white house and many other historical buildings. The president tried to force everyone to obey him, which resulted in their army being used against themselves. The enemy countries saw this and joined together to destroy the land of the free. America was overtaken, the president was murdered, and America was then named Terrestrial; the largest prison in history.

When the movie was over the three boys looked at each other, unsure how to respond to what they had just seen. They felt like they should be upset and mournful that they homeland was taken over and turned into this horrible place, but they didn't feel that way at all. In fact, they felt numb to it all. They didn't remember what America was like, so why should they feel any emotion for something they don't remember knowing? The only one who felt anything was Peter, who silently grieved for all those who lost their lives.

"As you can see," The Professor explain, "The place you knew is no more."

"Then why are you trying to get our memories back?" Davy, and he guessed the others felt this also, had been wondering this for some time now. What did the Professor have to gain? It's not like he was helping them remember so they could live their normal lives again. He just said that it was all gone. So what was the point?

"I am a scientist. I needed to experiment with my machine and you boys just happened to be the first ones to wake up."

This hit them hard. They knew it was silly, but they had that small flicker of hope that told them that he was helping them. That this was like those stories how the hero is in trouble and someone just happens to appear and save them from the darkness. But now that light of hope was blown out, and they were left with nothing; nothing but each other. And they all knew what needed to be done.

"After we find Micky," Mike announced, standing tall like the true leader that he is. "We're all going back to remember who we are." He looked at the others who nodded in agreement. "And then we're going to bring America back."


	4. Part 4: Missing

After the Professor's long speech about not saying such foolish things out loud, counting themselves lucky to be in one of the only sound proof rooms in Terrestrial, and that they could have been shot for speaking that way, the three boys tried to relax in the large bedroom they were practically shoved into. It was like the first room they boarded in, absent of any color other than white, except now they actually each had a bed to themselves.

Why did the Professor have to be so uptight? And who ever heard of being shot just for speaking their minds? Besides, something had to be done. They thought about how the Professor had asked them why they wanted to bring back a country that they couldn't even remember. It took a little while, but they all agreed that that was the reason they had to, because they couldn't remember it. Maybe they thought that it would help them recall it. To remember the world they used to know. All they knew was that America was probably much better than the world they were now living in.

"What are we going to do?" Peter asked as he sat on his bed, the only one that was next to a window. "I mean, about America and Micky."

Davy tried to fluff up his pillow. "Well, that Professor isn't going to help us."

"That's why we'll have to act on our own." Mike announced. "Tomorrow we'll find Micky, and once we're all joined up we can go onto phase two of our plan."

"What is phase two?"

"I don't know yet, but we'll know when we get there."

"And what if Micky doesn't want to join us?"

"Who wouldn't want to change this place? Especially if he's going through what we are."

* * *

Once they knew the Professor was asleep, the three boys tried to silently sneak past his bedroom and across the hall. It was easier than they thought it would be. Everything seemed to be made of metal or some other hard substance, so there was no creaking and their footfalls were as quiet as a feather falling in a sound proof room. Which was slightly unnerving. Whenever they heard a sound they knew it wasn't them and they would all jump a foot into the air. When they reached the double staircase they speedily descended, wanting to get out as soon as possible, but running down wasn't the best of ideas. Peter tripped and slammed into Davy, which caused the both of them to hit their leader and land in a heap at the bottom of the steps.

"Don't do that." Mike told them. "Are you trying to give us away?"

"I'm sorry Mike," Peter apologized. "I didn't mean to-"

"Shh! Did you hear that?"

A small gasp hit their ears and they all turned toward a partly open door where the girl they saw before quickly disappeared. Davy didn't know why, but he somehow felt the urge to follow her, and without thinking he jumped to his feet and ran after her before Mike could stop him. At first Mike considered continuing the mission without him, but after all they've been through he knew they had to stick together.

Davy was barely able to keep up with her. His legs were still weak from sleeping for one hundred years, his lungs weren't used to breathing so heavily, and a few times his head felt empty and light as his vision repeatedly left him and then came back seconds later. When he blacked out for a few seconds too long he stumbled sideways and crashed into a partly open door, causing him to fall and hit the ground. Luckily he had managed to activate his inner instincts and fell in a way that wasn't fatal or led to serious injury. Instead he lay on the floor, feeling a slight pain in his arm.

"Davy! Are you alright?" Peter was instantly at his side.

"I'm fine." Davy announced before rolling up his sleeve to see the damage. When he saw the large bruise his arm started to hurt more.

"Now how are we going to explain that?" Mike asked.

"I fell out of bed?"

"Uh, guys..."

Mike and Davy looked at Peter, who was pointing at the wall in front of him. On it were pictures of them. They stared at them, wondering when the pictures were taken. Most of them were black and white, and many of them were taken in a street with people passing by and cars driving along on the roads. They guessed these were probably taken before their coma, and from the smiles on the pictures they wished they could go back to the time they couldn't remember.

"Is this Micky?" Peter looked at a picture of a young man with curly hair and a large smile.

"That's him." Mike said. "Although his hair was straight in my memory, and we were somewhere else. On a beach."

Davy removed one of the pictures from the wall, the one that showed the four of them smiling at the camera, holding up two fingers in a V. "We sure looked happy together."

"Why would the Professor have these..." Mike began looking through the files that were scattered on the tables and desk.

"Maybe he took an interest in us after we went into our coma."

"I don't think so."

"Why? It makes perfect sense that he would want to know more about us to help get our memories back."

"I just have this feeling. This feeling he's not telling us everything." He opened up another file and examined it. "My name is Micheal Nesmith."

"Neswin?"

"Nes-MITH. And you're, Davy Jones."

"Oh." Davy smiled, happy that his name was easier to say.

"What about me?" Peter hopped up and down excitedly. "Me, me! What about me?"

"Your name," Mike announced. "Is Peter Tork."

"What kind of a last name is that?" Davy asked, looking at the file in Mike's hand.

"I like it." Peter protested.

"Now that we know our names," Mike closed up the file, causing dust to fly. "Let's find something useful."

They continued to search the room, hoping to find anything that would either tell them who they once were or why the Professor had all these things hidden from them. After what seemed like hours they only discovered that they all came from different parts of America, except for Davy who was from England, and that in 1968 they all moved into the same building and lived together until an accident put them into a one hundred year sleep. The rest was just useless information like what jobs they had and their medical records. That is until Peter found a box under the desk. Inside it were pages that were kept in bags and when they opened them a strange smell hit their noses. Mike guessed it was something that kept the paper from aging from how new the paper looked despite it being so old. Instead of files filled with little facts that no one really cared about, it was full of letters. Letters written by them and people they knew back then.

"Here," Davy handed Peter one of the letters. "This is one written from your mother."

When Peter grabbed it and began reading he looked like a kid on Christmas. He was finally going to know who his mother was. The other two also found letters from their mothers and others they cared about. Even though they couldn't remember any of them, they still felt the love that these people had for them. Except for those few letters that were from ex girlfriends that threatened to tear their eyes out. All of those were addressed to Micky.

"We'd better hurry up," Mike informed them, looking at the small window. "The sun's coming up."

"What's this here?" Davy held up yet another filed that held their birth certificates. "Hey, we all don't have a father."

Mike grabbed the certificates and looked them over. "You're right. The father is written down for any of us."

"It's probably just a coincidence."

Even though they wanted to investigate further they knew that they had to clean up and get back into their bedrooms before the Professor wakes up. They quickly put the letters back under the table, tried to place the files back to where they were when they found them, and then they rushed back upstairs and into the white room where they lay down, even though they weren't tired. Now Mike knew what would be plan two. First they had to find Micky, and then they had to investigate themselves further.


	5. Part 5: Eves

Thankfully for them, the Professor had to leave, saying that he needed to deliver some papers on their progress to the people who were paying for his research. When he left and was gone for a few minutes, the three boys got ready to search for their missing comrade. They armed themselves with the cloaks and masks before heading out into the empty streets. Davy only paused for a moment to look back at the Professor's home. Who is that girl that keeps hiding from them? Maybe a relative of the Professors?

"Come on, Davy." Mike said, causing Davy to snap out of his daydreaming. "We don't have long to look. The Professor could get back home any minute."

"Hey Mike," Peter pulled on his cloak. "How are we going to know who Micky is when everyone is wearing masks?"

"We'll look inside the buildings first. They don't wear them while inside."

As Mike and Peter began to walk down the road, Davy took a second to look at the house again before running after them. This was the first time they've been outside alone. They kept looking over their shoulder, as if afraid one of the snipers would try to shoot them for the heck of it. At least they were in the cleaner side of town, and they all hoped Micky wasn't on the other side of the fence. Or worse, dead. The first building they went into was what looked like a small hospital. Except this one was cleaner than the one they woke up in. Large plants decorated the corners of the room - when Peter touched one he discovered they were fake - and a man in a white uniform stood behind a desk while he seemed to be talking to thin air. When Davy closed the door the man behind the desk noticed them and motioned for them to sit on one of the couches.

"Should we?" Davy asked their leader. "Maybe we should just leave."

"Micky might be here, so until we know for sure we have to stay."

Peter ran for the couch and sat down with a large smile on his face, exposing a dimple. Mike and Davy couldn't help but also smile, though they didn't know why. They were still in a horrible world they didn't understand. But somehow just being together told them that everything was somehow going to work out, and Mike had a feeling that soon they would be reunited with their lost friend.

"May I help you?" The man behind the desk asked after tapping the small device in his ear.

"Yes," Mike said quickly before letting out a cough. "We're looking for a friend of ours."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think he'll be here. It's been slow today."

"Oh...well, thanks anyway."

As they began to leave the man held up some papers. "If you'd like, I can get you a discount. Business has been slow, but we are very well stocked."

Davy shrugged. "We don't have any money."

The man was silent for a moment before smiling. "You're new here, aren't you. Just woke up, right?"

"How did you know?" Peter asked, mouth open in surprise.

He laughed. "All of us here woke up from the coma. Or at least, that's what they tell us. Haven't you been filling in by your Taker?" The three men looked at each other, not knowing what the heck he was talking about. "I guess not. Well, I would explain everything to you, but I'm not being paid to teach newcomers the basics. But I don't think the Government would mind if I should you around and explained any questions you might have. Follow me."

He left his desk and began to walk down one of the hallways. At first they didn't know what to do, but then their curiosity took over and they followed him.

"My name is Samuel, by the way." He explained. "But Sam is fine. Do you know what building you're in right now?"

"A hospital?" Mike guessed.

"Sorry, wrong answer. This is actually, well...I guess you could call it an auction house.

"What do you auction, medical supplies?"

"Nothing like that." Sam placed his hands behind his head and began walking backwards. "We trade livestock. I know, I know what you're thinking. And no, I don't mean cows and chickens like they did in the old days."

Lights on the floor suddenly turned on, almost blinding Davy with green light. When his eyes adjusted they saw that on both sides of the walls were cages with glass walls. "Those are..."

"Yep, we trade Eves." Sam tapped one of the glass walls that separated him from a girl with short red hair. "We buy them when they're born, train them, clean them, and then sell them."

"How can you do something like that?" Mike stepped forward and pulled off his mask. "How can you treat humans-"

"Humans? Oh, right. You're new here." Their guide let out a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Something tells me this is going to take a while to explain. Okay. Years ago, after America was taken over, females were declared non-human. Well, maybe not non-human, but of no importance, I guess you could say. They're now things for men to use however they want. It was like this at the beginning of time, afterall. You see, this is why you need your Taker. They explain all of this."

"What is a Taker?" Davy rubbed his arms, creeped out by all of the eyes that were watching him.

"The one who agrees to care for you when you wake up. There are thousands of them, and we can't have a bunch of people roaming around, not knowing who and what..." He paused and saw the looks on their faces. "Yeah, the Eves creeped me out on my first day too." A smile appeared on his face as he looked at nothing the others could see. "My first day. I remember the feeling."

As Sam continued to talk to himself, the three boys looked at each other and all thought the same thing. Samuel talks too much. And, quite frankly, he came off as annoying. If this was a first date they would have left him with the bill and grab a taxi to the farthest hotel, if not another city. Once their guide - if you can even call him that - stopped talking to himself and explained to them what a Taker was. In short, a Taker is someone who fills in paperwork and picks which coma patient they would like to take care of. A lot like adoption. When they wake up the Taker brings them home with them, explains how this new world works, and takes care of them.

"Who's your Taker then? Mine is the Trader, the one who owns this place."

"The Professor." Peter replied.

Sam let out a long whistle. "Not many people are lucky enough to get one of those. He's high up. I would think he would have explained everything to you. Is he always busy or something?"

"Actually," Davy shrugged. "He almost doesn't do anything."

"I saw him playing a game he called 'Pac-Man'." Mike told him. "He played it for three hours."

Sam was silent for a moment. "I hate to tell you this, but your Taker sucks."

"Sucks what?" Peter asked, getting nothing but a head shake from Sam.

"And I don't think he's been telling us everything." Mike paused for a moment as he tried to remember the conversation they had with their Taker. "He made it sound like we were a special case. I mean, with us being in the coma. And some papers said we were in some kind of accident."

"Accident?" Sam let out a laugh. "That's what they wanted you to think." His face suddenly went serious and he looked around cautiously. "It's okay if I say that, right?"

"What are you-?"

Sam cut him off by raising his hand and after a long moment he smiled again. "Okay, that's safe territory. The old government of America used to put people in comas and make it look like an accident."

"Why would they do that?"

He shrugged. "We don't know. But of course, there were a lot of conspiracies back then. They even tried to control people with the movies they watched. Can you imagine? Paying people extra to make movies filled with sex and violence, and I won't even tell you about of those 'end of the world' reports to make everybody trust them more. And then to top it all off, they gave them free money and cellphones so people wouldn't want to work and would have to rely on them. So much for the American dream, right?"

"My head hurts." Peter told them, placing a hand to his noggin.

"Listen," Mike stepped forward. "It's nice of you to explain all this, but-"

"Too much too soon?" Sam asked and nodded. "Yeah, it is a lot to take in."

"Well, that. And we're looking for someone. Have you ever come across a guy slightly shorter than me, has curly or wavy brown hair-"

"And has a large smile." Peter put in.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, putting his hands in his pockets. "But a lot of people come to buy an Eve. If I could remember everybody, I'd be high up." He looked down for a moment and then his smile grew. "But I think I can help you guys out. Follow me."

"Again?" Davy let his shoulders drop before following Sam down the hallway. "Where are you taking us now, a place where they sell men?"

"No, it's against the law to do that. They did try it once. Had these hidden slave auctions until the Government wiped them out." After a few more steps he stopped in front of a door. "Here it is." He pulled out a key and unlocked it. When they all stepped inside they were greeted with large screens, a lot like the ones the Professor had. "With these we can find your friend."

After cracking his knuckles the talkative blond sat on the black stool and began typing away on what looked like a blank blue screen that lit up whenever his fingers touched it. As he did this images came and went on the large screen in front of them until it stopped on a page that had questions and boxes to fill in. Like height, hair and eye color, favorite beer, and many others. He typed in the things they knew and waited while hundreds of faces flashed, hurting their eyes. Finally it came to a stop and only one face appeared before them.

"Is that him?" Peter asked, trying to picture curly hair and a smile on the face in front of them.

"You'd better hope not," Sam told them. "You don't want to try and make friends with the Government's top sniper."


	6. Part 6: Soup

"I'm back, boys." The Professor announced as he walked into his home. "Sorry that I'm late, but now we can continue with...Boys?"

The house was quiet. Too quiet. The old man began searching all of the rooms only to find that no one was there. Where could they have gone off to? A horrible thought crossed his mind and he proved it true when he saw that their masks, goggles, and cloaks were missing. They had left. At first he was angry, but then he let out a small chuckle and rubbed his chin when he realized that he would have done the same thing if he was them. But still, it was too early for them to leave on their own. And what if they found out too much? Or worse, what if they found their friend? If that happened, the Government's gunmen would be after him quicker than a hungry fox after a jack rabbit.

"Tanya!" He called out, and the door creaked open and the blue eyed girl stepped into full view. "Where have they gone?"

"Out..."

"I know that, but did they say anything about where they were going?"

"I was asleep most of the day, and..." She nervously stepped back as tears started to fall down her thin face. "And they looked through your stuff in your study...I'm so sorry! I should have...!"

"Stop your crying." He told her while she wiped her cheeks with her sleeve. "There's nothing we can do about it now. All we can do is wait for them to return and try to talk some sense into them."

Tanya sniffed. "I'm sorry."

* * *

"Shouldn't we be heading back?" Davy asked Mike before taking another sip of the tea Sam had made for them.

"We will, but first we gotta learn all we can."

"But do we have to learn it from him?"

"How are you all enjoying your tea?" Sam announced as he re-entered the room, wearing an apron that had the words 'Eat It And Like It' written on the front. "I could make you some coffee instead."

Both Davy and Mike shook their heads. If his coffee was half as bad as his tea, they might die from taste poisoning.

"No thanks, your tea is great." Peter grinned widely while his two companions wondered how he could possibly drink the stuff.

"Thank goodness." Sam began taking off his apron. "My Eve died a few days back so I've had to cook my own food until I get a new one. So, you guys want to learn about the stuff your Taker has apparently failed to tell you about. Am I right?"

"Uh, yeah." Mike put down his cup, hoping Sam wouldn't notice that most of the tea was still there. "But first we'd like to find our friend. That way we can all discuss this together."

"Uh," Sam tried to hold back a laugh. "He might have been your friend before, but now he's a sniper. They don't have friends."

"Everybody has friends." Peter protested.

"Not snipers. Well, except maybe each other. And I don't think you guys want to become one of them."

"We just want to talk to him." The shortest of the group stood up. "It's better to try and fail rather then not try at all."

"Okay, it's your funeral. Or at least it would be if they still had funerals nowadays."

"Aren't you going to help us?"

"And get shot? No thanks. Now onto something less dangerous. Did your Taker tell you anything about this place?" They shook their heads. "I think you guys ended up with the wrong Taker. But it could have been worse. The Doctor performed experiments on the ones he agreed to take care of."

"Did they stop him?"

"Of course not. He's one of the highest around here. He could go into the streets and shoot everybody if he wanted it."

"I don't want to learn about this place anymore." Peter squeezed his cup. "I just want to find Micky and go home."

"Well that's not gonna happen. Whatever life you lived before is long gone and everyone you knew is probably dead."

The dirty blond's head lowered and Davy looked accusingly at their host. "Now see what you've gone and done. He's sensitive."

"I'm sorry, but it's the truth." Sam shrugged. "The sooner you realize that the better."

"I think we'd better go." Mike suggested and Davy nodded in agreement.

"Okay whatever." Sam took his apron and walked the three friends to the door. "Hey listen. You know I can't help you find Mikey, right?"

"Micky." Mike corrected as he wished they could just get away from this annoying guy already. "And yeah, you've made that clear."

"Good...Do you like soup?"

"What?"

"There's this small place food and drink place and they serve soup."

"What does this have to do with anything?"

"Nothing, I guess. But there're some interesting people who go there for the stuff." He winked at them. "Maybe you'll recognize someone there at 8:00 tomorrow." With that he closed the door and left the three boys standing by themselves.

"What do you think he was talking about?" Davy asked.

"I don't even care." Mike answered as they headed for the Professor's house.

* * *

"Where were you boys?" It was time to face the music. "Do you realize how dangerous it is out there? You could have been shot!"

"We're sorry, Professor." Peter answered, and from the way he said it both his companions knew he was still out of it.

"Haven't I warned you about leaving by yourselves? Why would you-?"

"I'm sorry, but we're kinda tired." As the Professor protested Mike hurried himself into the bedroom with Davy and Peter trailing behind.

Once they were safe they all lay down on their beds, each of them thinking about different things. Mike was disappointed. Disappointed that while they knew who Micky was in this world, they were still no closer to finding their long lost friend. Should they just stroll around town and hope to spot him? No. With everyone wearing masks all the time they would have to search inside the buildings, and risk running into people like Samuel. Davy tried to not think about anything. Why did they have to end up here? Maybe it would have been better if they had stayed in their coma, or even the fake hospital. Peter sniffed and pulled out a letter that he had taken from the box. He knew that they weren't supposed to keep any of them, but he couldn't help himself. Once again he looked over the letter from his mother. The mother he once knew. In it she said she was sorry. Sorry for what he did not know. The more he looked it over the more he wanted to find he and tell her it was alright and that he forgave her. His mother couldn't be dead, could she? Not with her letter that smelled of her perfume in his hands. There had to be a way to see her. As he quietly fell asleep he prayed that somehow they would be reunited.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" The Professor asked.

"I'm Sam," He explained as he stood in the doorway after he had taken off his goggles and mask. "You remember me, right? I sold you that girl and invited you for tea or coffee and we-"

"Yes, yes. I remember. But why are you here?"

"You're a..." He tried to look over the old man's shoulder. "You're the Taker for those three guys, right?"

"So you all met."

"Wow," He announced sarcastically. "You got it right on the first guess. I'm impressed."

As Davy was taking the Professor's papers to his desk, where the their Taker had told him to place them, he stopped and frowned at the visitor. "What do you want?"

"Hey there Danny!" Sam pushed the Professor aside and let himself in. "You remember me right?"

"Yes, but apparently you don't."

"Of course I do. You came to my place where I gave you tea."

Davy tried to get a better grip of the papers. "You got my name wrong. It's Davy."

"Isn't that what I said?"

With a roll of his brown eyes he walked toward his destination only to find that Sam was following him. "Don't you have somewhere to be? Or someone else to bother?"

"Nah, I have the day off. Actually," He placed a hand on Davy's shoulder and whispered in his ear. "I'm here to help you guys get that soup."

"What are you talking about?"

"Wait...Aren't you guys going?"

"Why should we?"

"You didn't get my wink!"

"What are you-?"

"I thought I showed you clearly! Where are the other two? Uh...Pecky and Mindy?"

"Peter and Mike, and they're up ahead in the other room."

"Then come on!" Sam grabbed Davy's arm, causing him to drop the papers, and he rushed into the other room where Mike and Peter were trying to finish the chores they had been given as punishment for leaving without permission. "We've got a huge problem-o!"

"What is he doing he?" Mike asked.

"Why is everybody asking that? I'm here to help you get the soup!"

"We don't want any. Now if you don't mind,"

"So you didn't get the wink?"

"What are you talking about, shotgun?"

"The soup! The meeting someone! The...Oh come on!" He someone managed to push all three out the room and toward the door. Until he remembered that they needed their masks. "Get your gear on. That soup won't be there much longer!"

"What are you doing?!" The Professor shouted as the three helpless men put on their goggles, masks and cloaks.

"Everybody sure is asking a lot of questions today." Sam said as he put his own goggles back on. "Don't worry Gramps, we're just getting some soup. Later!" With that Samuel disappeared with his captives and he continued pushing them until they came to a small building where they could see people sitting at a counter.

"Why do we have to eat this soup? I don't even like soup." Davy said as they all walked inside and he tried to forget about the horrible stuff that the Professor gives them everyday.

"It's not the soup." He grabbed Davy's head and twisted it toward the men at the counter. "That's what you want."

"A broken neck?"

"I think he means that." Mike explained as he pointed at one of the customers.

"Micky!" Peter shouted as he ran over to him. "You're here! Now we can find a way to go home and-"

Before he could finish the man at the counter grabbed his gun, kicked Peter to the ground, and was new pointing his weapon at Peter's face. For a scary moment the others thought their friend was going to get a hole in his head, but miraculously the gun was put back against the counter and the sniper once again sat down to eat his bread. Mike and Davy helped Peter up as they looked at the sniper's face. It was Micky alright. You can't mistake a face like that. So now that they found him, how were they going to approch him without getting a bullet in them?

As they tried to decide the best way to go about it Sam walked up to Micky and held up a piece of paper. "Samuel. Apprentice to the Trader."

"Sit down." The sniper said without even looking at the paper.

"Just a moment." He explained before walking over to Peter. "Didn't your Taker tell you anything? You can't just walk up to snipers like that. You have to show them that your not a threat."

"You could have warned us." Davy told him.

"That doesn't matter right now. Now do you want to talk to him or don't you?"

"Of course we do."

They all headed for the counter and Sam placed his arms in front of him. "So listen. These guys are newcomers and completly clueless. Can you please explain to them that you are or not their friend Milky."

"Micky." Mike corrected before turning to the sniper. "You see, the person who greeted us when we woke up was the Professor, and he gave me some of my memories from before I was in the coma." He paused for a moment, but when Micky didn't answer he continued. "In my memories I remember you being there and we all were friends. So I guess what I'm trying to ask is if you want to come with us to help you remember who you once were."

"Some things are better left forgotten." Their old friend explained. "And I'm not interested."

"But you have to come!" Peter protested. "We have to-"

When Mike say that Micky was reaching for his gun again he and Davy grabbed the dirty blond's shoulders and helped him out of the building. Once they were gone the gunman got up, put on his gear, and left himself, with his gun slung over his shoulder. As he walked down the sidewalk he wondered what that was all about. The whole thing was almost comical, and he partly wished he had just killed them on the spot. It was those kind of newcomers that always caused trouble. His thoughts were interupted when someone bumped into him and rushed off. He quickly grabbed his gun, ready to shoot this rushing stranger, but the rude man dodged down an alley. After letting out a curse he rushed after him, wanting to strangle whoever had the nerve to bonk into him. Soon enough he came to the end of the alleyway to find a door that was partly open. He charged in, gun raised, to find a man that looked just like him, except that his hair was dyed blond.

His lookalike quickly lifted his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you! I was in a hurry and-"

The sniper let out a chuckle and pulled off his mask. "You look like me. Sneaky and vicious."

His lookalike was speachless for a moment. "W-wow. I uh, wasn't expecting that."

"You can put your arms down."

"So, you're not going to kill me?"

"Not right now." To prove this he placed his gun back over his shoulder. "You must be who they were looking for."

"Who were? The Governmant? But I didn't do anything! They approved of-"

"Not them. Some newcomers."

"Oh." He let out a sigh of relief. "What did they want?"

The sniper made himself at him by sitting on one of the chairs to his right. "One of them remembers you. He had a green hat over his mask. Made me want to shoot it off." He paused when he saw the look on his lookalike's face. "You know them?"

"Yeah, I know them. They were my friends."

"Were? I'm guessing something happened."

"I guess you could say that." He leaned against the wall. "Say. Do you know where they're staying?"

"Their Taker is the Professor. Why? Are you going to find them?"

"No. Now I know not to visit that place and it'll be easier to avoid them. Can you please get your feet off the table?" He asked before he saw the sniper reaching for his gun. "O-only if you want to, of course!


	7. Part 7: Laughter and Tears

Saying that Mike, Davy and Peter were depressed would be an understatment. They had finally found their friend and he turned them down. And it wasn't like they could keep bugging him until he agreed, unless they each wanted to get shot, so they spent their time doing chores for the Professor and sneaking around at night to find further information that might explain more about themselves. Unfortunately there wasn't much. They had already went through most of their Taker's things and most of them were useless. So in short, things were not going great for the poor trio. In fact, the only bright side was that Sam was too busy with his job to visit them or drag them off to who knows where and that the Professor was having his memory machine brought to the house so they could continue working on getting their memories back. But until it came all they could do was sit tight and let boredom set in.

"I'm bored." Davy complained while stared at the ceiling. "Is there anything to do around here?"

"We've already done everything that needs doing." The tallest of the three sat next to Peter, who was playing a hand held version of pac-man. "I even beat all of the levels on that thing."

"Great news, boys." The Professor announced to them. "It has arrived."

Davy instantly stood up. "Where is it?"

"That is the problem..."

Before they knew it their Taker had somehow convinced them to carry the machine across the hallway, up the stairs, down another hallway, down some stairs and finally against the wall before all three of them collapsed onto the floor. And they still had to get the control panel, the wires, and other odds and ends. This also did not help them feel better. All it did was make their arms ache and legs feel heavy. For a moment they wondered if all Takers treated the ones they were supposed to take care of like this? Luckily they didn't need to plug everything in and this gave them some time to rest.

"He's a slave driver." Davy breathed heavily. "And now we're back to not having anything to do. What are you doing, Mike?"

"I'm going to find Micky again." He answered while putting on his mask. "Now that we have the do-hicky here, maybe we can convinced to come here and remember who he was."

"You must be out of your birds." Davy told him before letting out a chuckle. "Count me in."

"What about you, Pete?"

"Of course!" Peter jumped up excitedly. "I want us all to remember who we were together."

Mike nodded before turning toward the entrance, but stopped when the girl ran to it and blocked the door. "You can't leave without Master's permission!"

Now they finally got a full view of the mysterious girl. Her large blue eyes almost looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets at any moment, her raven hair was beautiful and gleaming, and her simple white dress hung loosely on her thin body. She would have been pretty if she wasn't trying to make her frightened face look vicious, which only made her look like she had to sneeze. All in all, she looked funny. They tried not to but they all let out small chuckles and snorts.

"What are you laughing at?" Tanya shouted. "I said you can't leave!"

"We're just going out to find a friend. He'll understand." Davy tried to convince her, but she wouldn't budge.

"I didn't want to do this, but..." Mike pulled a large roll of tape out of his pocket and with a little help he managed tape her ankles, wrists, and mouth. "There, that should do it. Come on, guys."

They started heading out when Davy stopped and turned toward Tanya, who was now crying. "You guys go ahead, I'll stay here."

"Are you sure?" Peter asked him.

"Yeah. Besides, someone has to think up a story for the Professor." His friends nodded and left, leaving Davy alone with the crying girl. "Do you want me to take off that tape?"

When she nodded and he took it off she took a deep breath and screamed, "PROFESSOR, THEY ESCAPED AGAIN AN-!"

Davy quickly covered her mouth, hoping their Taker didn't hear her shouting. A few minutes past before he guessed that either they were too far to be heard or the Professor was doing something loud that muffled her scream. "Why did you do that? We ju-Ow!"

After she bit his hand Tanya managed to wriggle away and kick him in the leg. "Get away from me!" With her hands behind her back and feet taped together she could only crawl a few inches more before she stooped, unable to go any further.

"Are all the girls around here like that?" Davy asked himself aloud as he rubbed his hand.

"What are you waiting for?" Tanya asked between sobs. "Just get it over with."

"Get what over with?"

She wriggled some more until she could see him. "Is that it? You want me to say it?" It looked like she was going to continue but soon her crying went out of control.

* * *

While that was going on Mike and Peter headed for the place where they first saw Micky, hoping to find him there, when Mike stopped and looked into one of the buildings. It was the same building they had seen when they first came through her, and another woman was standing there. When Peter tried to see what he was looking at Mike covered his eyes, knowing that he was too innocent to look at this barely clothed Eve.

"What is it, Mike?" Peter asked, wondering why it suddenly got so dark. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." Mike told him, still covered his companion's goggles. "Just something you shouldn't be looking at until you're older."

"But I don't know how old I am."

"Well that makes two of us." He was just about to tell Peter that they should move on he saw someone else. "Micky?"

"Where?" Peter asked, pulling Mike's hand away from his eyes.

They both looked at the man and saw that it was indeed Micky, but with blond hair and wearing a business suit with crazy patterns. Why would a sniper change his looks, they wondered. As they stared on, wondering if it really was him or not, the blond man also saw them and his eyes grew wide before grabbing the lady's hand and running further into the building, out of sight.

Without thinking Mike and Peter ran after him, hoping to get some answers. Once inside the building Mike wanted to cover both their eyes. They were now in a colorful room with long couches, some magazines sitting on a table, and pictures of barley clothes women on the walls. Mike had only a moment to wonder if this was like the place where Sam worked before he heard a door slam and he once again chased after Micky, now having another question to ask him. They flew one door after another open, finding only rooms filled with pillows and thick carpet, until they came to one that also contained three women, who all jumped in surprise.

"Do you know where a blond guy wearing is?" Mike asked, but all her got in return were three confused faces that looked back and forth between themselves and these two strangers. "Never mind." He waved his hand and they both left to search the other rooms.

When the door closed the three girls all laughed and giggled together until they were all rolling on the floor, holding their stomachs and trying to breathe.

"That," The only black haired one of the bunch said between giggles. "Was the funniest thing ever!"

"I know, right?" The blond with blue eyes wiped away a tear. "I almost laughed right in their faces!"

"That would have been priceless!" The second blond with green eyes slowly got up and knocked on the door that led to a small closet. "They're gone, Boss. You and Dorothy can come out now."

As the three girls continued to giggle Micky and the girl he had dragged with him slowly came out. "Where did they go?"

"I don't know." The girl with blue eyes shrugged. "I could follow them if you want."

"Oh please." The black haired girl threw a pillow at her. "You wouldn't be able to sneak on a dead tree in the middle of chasing a lizard."

"That doesn't even make any sense."

As the two of them began to have a pillow fight the green eyed girl rolled her eyes and turned to Micky. "I can follow them, if you want me to."

"Nah, that's fine." He told her. "You girls have already saved my skin."

"Saved your skin, huh?" The black haired girl dropped the pillow she was about to throw. "Maybe we should make sure we saved it. Get him!"

The three girls pounced on him, dragging Micky down onto the pillows as they all giggled and laughed together. Dorothy shook her head and smiled before clapping her hands together, telling them that playtime was over. But it was obvious that they weren't listening.

"Okay girls," Micky sat up and buttoned his shirt back up. "I'll see you all later."

"Okay. They all said at once before saying goodbye once at a time.

"See you later, Micky." The blue eyed blond gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"See you Belle, hopefully sooner rather than later."

The one with black hair gave him a big hug. "You're more awesome than a train doing the polka in a clothes store!"

"I don't know what that means, but thanks Emma."

"Can we hide you again sometime?" The green eyed blond asked.

"Sure, and maybe you can hide with me next time, Violet."

When they all finished hugging and kissing him goodbye they all left the room together as Micky found his jacket and began putting it back on. Dorothy watched him as she closed the door and then grabbed his tie and handed it to him.

"Thanks." He told her.

For a moment they were silent until Dorothy leaned against the wall. "So, are you going to explain what that was all about?"

"You know that they like to pounce on me. It's not my fault they don't want to stop."

She smiled when she saw he was having trouble with his tie. "Let me help you with that." As she did his necktie for him she continued talking. "And you know what I meant. Why were you hiding from? Did you get into a fight again?"

"It was nothing to worry about."

"They were your old friends, weren't they? The ones you told me about?"

He grabbed her hands and pulled them away before trying again to get his tie on right. "I said it was nothing to worry about."

"If it was you wouldn't have run away from them and you would talk to me about it."

"Maybe I don't want to talk about it."

"Such a drama queen." Dorothy grabbed Micky's necktie again and began tying it as he rolled his eyes. When she finished she held the tie in her hand. "Talking about things you don't want to talk about will make you feel better."

Micky chuckled slightly. "And I thought it was only Emma who said things that don't make sense."

"You know what I mean. Don't you trust me?"

Micky placed his hands on her shoulders. "I do trust you. But I can't talk about it. Not yet anyway." He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and then went to the door. "Just give me some more time."

* * *

"Are you done now?" Davy asked when Tanya's water works went dry.

He had tried to comfort her when she was still bawling, but whenever he touched her she kicked him until he went away. Now she was laying on the floor, eyes red and puffy from crying and body aching from crawling around on a hard floor. Davy was surprised that the Professor hadn't come at all. He must be really into his work.

"I don't want to hurt you." Davy told her for what seemed like the hundredth time. "I just want to help."

"I've heard that before." Tanya sniffed. "Y-you're just waiting for me to let my guard down, but I know better."

"Whatever you think I'm going to do to you, I'm not. Will you at least stay still while I un-tape you?"

"Do whatever you want." She said before Davy walked over and began taking the tape off. "Your just going to find some other way to rape me anyway."

Davy froze in place when he realized what she had just said. "What?"

Her bare foot hit him in the stomach and he fell over as he watched her run down the hallway she had used to run away from him the first time. When she disappeared from view he slowly got back up, hoping she didn't break one of his ribs. Why would she say such a thing? Although now he understood why she was going so crazy whenever he tried to touch her. Maybe he should ask the Professor about it later. As he wondered how to ask the Professor about her Peter and Mike walked tiredly into the house and pulled their gear off.

"Did you find Micky?" Davy asked, trying to hide the fact that his stomach was still in pain.

"In a manner of speaking." Mike answered.

"What do you mean?"

"He's now a blond and is hanging around a bunch of women."

"They were nice." Peter said. "One of them offered me a drink and a blanket."

Mike leaned over to Davy so only he could hear him. "Actually she offered him a cup of love and herself as a blanket, but I guess Peter doesn't understand pick up lines."

"So where's Micky? Did he refuse again?"

"No, we couldn't find him. He ran off as soon as he saw us. He acted like he was a completely different person."

"It is done, boys!" The Professor announced as he walked into the room. "Come now and we can continue bringing back your memories."


	8. Part 8: Conversations

"Are you comfortable?"

"No..." Peter answered as he lay in the memory machine.

Mike watched as the innocent boy was slowly put to sleep. So this is how it looked on the outside. Even though he knew that Peter would be fine and knew what the dirty blond was going through, he still couldn't help but worry slightly. What if the machine suddenly shut down, leaving him in nappy land for who knows how long? Was this what Davy and Peter thought about when he was asleep in the memory machine? Or did they just hog out on that turkey and didn't care? But of course, they weren't strangers anymore. Or at least, Mike didn't think so. Maybe it was because of that memory. In it they seemed like good friends.

"Just relax," He heard the Professor, who was wearing some kind of strange headset with at least ten different colored wires coming out of it, explain to probably a very confused Peter. "The machine has Mike's memory scanned, so in a moment it will pinpoint the time in your memories."

"That's interesting." Mike said aloud before looking at Davy, who looked like he really needed to go somewhere. "Thinking about that chick, are you?"

"How di-!"

"You've been out of it." He interrupted. "So what happened in there? I saw she wasn't there anymore."

Davy was silent for a long moment. "I'll explain it to you later."

The tall man nodded in understanding. It was probably best that they didn't talk about the mystery girl around their Taker, at least until they could properly ask him about her. What he didn't know was that his small companion also wanted to discuss what she had said to him, and about this horrible place. What kind of a world had people who worried about such things?

Their thoughts were interrupted by four knocks at the door. The Professor was too busy to hear it, so the two boys - who had nothing better to do - went to answer it, hoping it wasn't Sam again. When they opened it the visitor quickly walked in and removed their mask, and Mike was shocked to see that it was the girl Micky had run away with earlier, except now she was wearing a less revealing outfit.

"What are you doing here?" The words flew out of Mike's mouth before he even realized he was talking.

Dorothy combed her fingers through her long hair. "You two are Micky's friends, right?" Davy and Mike both nodded. "Good, follow me." She placed her mask back on and headed out the door.

"Wait a minute," Mike told her, taken aback. "Why are you here, and where are you taking us?"

"Yeah," Davy agreed. "The last time we let someone drag us off Peter almost got shot."

"I know about you." Dorothy told them before shrugging slightly. "Well, I know a little. Micky has told me about three friends he used to know and wants to forget."

"Forget?"

"Don't ask me why." She let out a groan. "Whenever I try to make him explain more he always avoids it."

"So what do you want us to do about it?"

"I've got a plan on how to make him open up. If this works you two will get to speak with him, and I'll finally find out why he's been hiding it from me."

* * *

Peter didn't know about any of this. He was too busy trying not to watch the images that were flashing by. The Professor had explained that if he looked at them he might accidentally activate one, losing the pinpointed memory. But again the corner of his eye caught many different images. He saw one of a bedroom with four beds, one showed snow covered hills, and others showed things that he couldn't make out or were too strange to be a memory. He wished he could choose one of the strange ones to remember, to see what kind of a memory it was. After what seemed like an hour the images slowed down until it came to a sandy beach and a group of thugs. Peter was slowly able to remember the smell of the sea - and the group of men who probably hadn't bathed in a few weeks - and even though he felt scared, he also felt safe in the company of the three men he was with. Before he knew it he was reliving the memory.

"What do we do?" Davy whispered to their leader while grabbing onto his arm.

"There's only thing left to do." Mike said loud enough for all the goons to hear. "We'll have to call the A-Team."

"The A-Team?" One of the goons looked worriedly at the others. "I don't wanna mess with _them_ again!"

That was all it took for them to hightail it out of there. They all ran for the car, grabbing their boss as they did, got in and then drove off into the sunset. The Monkees won, but they knew they would be back. Otherwise the episode would end too quickly and they would have to fill the rest of the airtime with commercials and they would get hate letters and the show would probably get canceled. And no one wanted that.

"Thank you for doing that!" Mr. Fisher said, hitting Mike's back with great force. "Mr. Valdez has been trying to buy this place ever since he heard of it!"

"Why?" Davy asked. "It doesn't look like he needs the money."

"Unless he stole all that bling." Micky continued.

"He's been buying all of the hotels and motels in Acapulco." Mr. Fisher explained. "No one knows why, though. Maybe he's one of those tycoons, or whatever their called."

"I think that we should find out." With a nod from his friends the four boys ran down the beach, knowing what needed to be done.

Before the memory could continue everything began to grow dark and Peter's head felt like it was spinning. Soon the memory was gone, and he was alone in the black void. Why did the it have to end so quickly? He wanted it to go on forever, to always be with those three friends he once knew. Could they regain that friendship now, even in a world like this? He hoped so. Or maybe they could find a way to go back to that time and place. He didn't know how yet, but if remembering things long past was possible, it should be possible to go back to a time and place, right? After convincing himself that it must be possible he melted away from the blackness and was now awake, rubbing his hazel eyes.

"How could they do this again?" The Professor was pacing across the floor, and Peter noticed that the girl from before - the one they had tied up - was here too. "They know how dangerous it is out there. What if everything goes wrong?"

"What happened?" Peter asked, now seeing that his companions were missing.

"They left again! I told you boys not to leave, so why do you keep doing it? Come now, Tanya." The Professor headed for the door and grabbed his mask and cloak. "We have to find them and bring them back."

Before Peter could protest the Professor and Tanya left the building, leaving Peter all alone. At first he considered staying put until they got back, but who knew how long that would take? And Mike had told him that if given the opportunity, he should search for more clues about themselves. He carefully stepped off of the machine, as if afraid that the slightest sound would make the Professor come back, and crept toward the rooms they hadn't been able to fully explore yet. First he decided to look through the closet, which was closest to him and would probably not take as long, and when he opened it an avalanche of papers, boxes, handheld games, and odds and ends crashed down on top of him. After he finally made it back up he breathed in, somehow amazed that he lived through that, and then quickly forgot about the horrible ordeal and began picking up papers and speed read through them.

* * *

"I can't believe that guy!" Davy and Mike continued to listen to Dorothy's rants. "I've stayed by him for who knows how long, helped him build Gleeb, and what does it get me? He keeps going on and on about trust and he won't even tell me about three guys he used to know!"

The two young men looked at each other, unsure what to say. Were all the women here so emotional? After listening to her endless complains they arrived at their destination. It was the same as before, covered with pictures of beautiful women and comfy furniture, and they followed her into another room that had pillows scattered here and there, a yellow coffee table, and a small round counter against the wall. She told them both to sit down and wait before leaving them. As they waited Davy fumed inside. What kind of a place was this? No one needed to explain to him what kind of things happened here and what the girls he saw chatting to each other were forced to do. No wonder that girl back at the Professor's house acted the way she did. The more he thought about it, the more he didn't want to find this Micky person.

"Do really need to make Micky join us?" Davy finally asked. "It's been fine with just the three of us, and we don't really know him."

"We do know him." Mike told him. "Or at least we did."

"But we don't now. And just look at this place. What kind of person would be here?"

"And from what she said it sounds like he owns this place."

"Which is why we should just leave. We don't need him."

Before Mike could answer they heard voices coming from the other side of the door. Soon it opened and Dorothy walked in, followed by Micky. When he saw them he instantly began turning to run for it, but the girl quickly closed the door and leaned against it. He was trapped.

"I'm sorry Micky," Dorothy told him before hugging his arm. "But they made me."

Mike and Davy couldn't believe it! As she continued - in an innocent voice - about how _they_ found her and forced her to lead them to their old friend or they would kidnap her and use her for ransom, they could only stand there in disbelief. First she was going on about how annoyed she was at Micky, and now she was talking to him as if they were a new couple. Hopefully Micky wouldn't believe what she was saying. It would be hard to convince him to join them if he thought they kidnapped her.

"So you just talk to them, okay?" Dorothy finally said while heading out. "I'll be out here if you need anything." With that she left, closing the door behind her. But from the giggles and heavy breathing they heard, they knew she was leaning against the door, listening in.

"She's...interesting." Mike said.

"Yeah," Micky chuckled. "She's pretty good at making her look like the victim."

"Why have you been running away from us?" Mike asked, not wanting them to get sidetracked.

Micky looked down and then at them. Why did they have to come now? And the fact that they couldn't remember made things worse. "If you remembered what happened, you wouldn't want to be in the same room with me."

"What are you talking about? And you remember?"

"I wish I didn't. It turns out a very small percentage of people in this place wake up remembering who they were. And lucky me, I just happen to be one of them. So if you'll excuse me, I have a business to run. And I suggest you guys keep not remembering."

"We're not doing that. If you do remember, what about the time we were in Acapulco, and we had to build a motel together. Peter accidentally dropped a bucket of paint on your head and Davy said you looked like a Smurf."

"What's a Smurf?" Davy asked.

Micky smiled at this memory. "Yeah, I remember that. Took me forever to get that stuff out of my hair."

"I only remember what I saw," Mike said, pausing every now and then as he tried to find the right words. "But from what I saw, I know we were good friends. No, not good friends...more like, family. I don't care about what might have happened, but in the long run I believe that we had this, special bond. Something that you can't just get. You have to work for it, and once you have it, it never dies. That's what I felt while in there, and you can't tell you you've forgotten that feeling. 'Cause I know we all knew it back then."

"Still the same, I see." Micky told him. "You did sometimes go on those long honest speeches."

"Maybe you just don't remember all the good things." Mike told him. "Come back with us. You can use the Professor's memory whatever it is."

"No thanks. There are some things I don't feel like reliving."

"But we'll be reliving it together." Davy told him.

Micky was surprised. Davy had been shooting daggers at him with his eyes ever since he got here. Davy was surprised himself. He was still mad about this place and knew they were better off without someone who ran this establishment, but what Mike had said really hit him. Did they really have a special bond, one that can't be forgotten? Yeah, he felt something when he was around Mike and Peter, but could he feel that 'bond' with Micky? Probably not. But Mike thought they would. No, he didn't 'think' they would. He knew.

"I'll think about it." Micky finally said. "But I think it would be better if you guys leave now."

Mike and Davy both nodded before opening the door, causing Dorothy to fall over. When the two young men left she dusted herself off and walked over to Micky, who was silently looking at where his old friends had just been standing moments before. Now that they were gone, it felt like that whole conversation was a distant dream, and he wished he could rewind time and talk to them again, just for those few minutes. But why did he feel this way? They were better off not knowing what happened, and it was better for everyone if they never saw each other again.

"Are you going?" Dorothy asked. "With them, I mean. I could run the place while you're gone."

"That won't be necessary." He told her. "I'm not going anywhere."


	9. Part 9: New Member

"So what did you find?" Mike asked when he walked into the room where Peter was surrounded by papers that were organized into neat stacks.

"Nothing much, and I'm almost finished."

"You read all of these?" Davy asked and Peter nodded.

"We were only gone for a half hour." Mike in surprise, looking at the clock on the wall.

"What are these different piles for?"

"I put them into different categories." Peter answered before explaining. "Like over there are letters from family and friends, these right here are from the jobs we had, and these are doctor's notes. Probably from while we were in the coma."

Mike smiled, impressed with the dirty blond's work. "What else have you been hiding from us?"

"What do you mean?"

The shortest of the three sat on the floor to look through one of the piles. "You were able to read and organize all of these."

Peter looked from Davy to Mike. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Far from it, Pete." Mike reassured him before looking through one of the piles.

They all began reading, and like Peter said, there wasn't much. Most of it didn't make sense to them and the parts they did understand weren't important. Mike was considering going through these after they remembered who they were so they could better understand them when they heard the door open and the Professor's voice. He was back! The three young men quickly grabbed the piles and flung them into the closet, closing the door behind them before the letters and papers could pour back out. Just in time too. As soon as they finished that and stepped away from the door their Taker entered the room, and as he went on about how long we spent looking for them the three boys could only sigh with relief. Who knows what would happen if he found out they had been snooping.

"I guess I will have to give you boys more work to do." The Professor told them, thinking that if he took away their free time they would be less likely to run off, when he heard a knock at the door. "What now?"

As he went to the door Peter looked down. "Did we make him mad?"

"Don't worry about it." Davy told him. "We'll stay here from now on."

"But what about Micky?" Peter asked.

"We paid him a visit," Mike explained. "And he doesn't want to join us."

"We have to keep trying. What if we-?" He was interrupted by the Professor's surprised voice.

"W-what are you-!"

"What's up, Doc. Nice place you have here."

"It can't be..." Davy said before their guest entered the room.

"Hi, guys." Micky told them, a big smile on his face. "What's going on?"

"I thought you weren't coming." Davy said, realizing that even after Mike's speech he still felt hate for what Micky did for a living.

"I uh," Micky combed his fingers through his dyed hair. "Kinda changed my mind." He was going to leave it at that, but he could see from their faces that that answer wasn't good enough. "What Mike said kinda sunk in, and honestly, Dorothy wouldn't stop bugging me about it."

"Hi!" Dorothy shouted, causing Mike, Davy and Peter to jump in surprise. Where did she come from? "It took a little while, but I finally got him here."

"What are you doing here?" The Professor asked him, the color disappearing from his face.

Micky slapped the Professor's cheeks as he changed his voice to impersonate a famous actor. "Sorry, sweetheart."

The old man didn't look impressed. "For the last time, what are you doing here?"

"What do you think? I'm here do whatever these guys are doing. Have you got anything to eat in this place?"

"I saw kitchen as we came in." Dorothy told him.

"How could you see it?" The Professor asked, unable to hide the frustration in his voice. "It's the furthest room from the front door!"

"I might have looked around a bit when I came in." She answered, using that innocent voice of hers, before grabbing Micky's arm and pulling him away. "It's this way."

* * *

"You are eating me out of house and home!" The Professor shouted. "And get your feet off the table!"

"What's your problem?" Micky said through a mouthful of chicken as Dorothy massaged his shoulders. "I thought you'd be happy I came. Aren't you trying to get our memories back?"

"Yes, but-!"

"Then what are you waiting for? Let's get this party started." He threw the chicken leg he had been eating and when it landed in the dirt of a potted plant Dorothy cheered, as if he had just made a touchdown.

"Are you still sure this was a good idea?" Davy asked Mike.

"Yeah, I do. When we all have our memories back it'll all be worth it."

"I hope you're right."

"We're all together again." Peter smiled, showing his dimples. "And that's all that matters."

After Micky finished eating his fill the Professor lead them all to the memory machine where he asked the four boys who wanted to go in first. Mike and Peter stepped back because they already had their turn, and Micky wasn't in a rush to get hooked up and force bad memories to the surface. He exhaled before laying down in the machine, wondering if these memories will change how he thought about Micky. He doubted it. He was probably the same back then as he is now. He soon felt himself drifting off and before he knew it he was surrounded with darkness and flashing images.

"Don't watch the images." The Professor told him. "If you do we will lose the pinpointed memory."

Because it was almost impossible to not look at the pictures flashing in front of him he closed his eyes until he heard voices. Their voices. He quickly opened his brown eyes and he saw that he was at a large building and Mike was saying something. The sound of cars in the background and the smell of cigarettes slipped him into the memory of that fateful day.

"Okay guys, we gotta find out why this Mr. Valdez person is buying all the hotels in Acapulco." Mike explained to them.

"And how are we going to do that?" Davy asked.

"We could ask him." Peter suggested.

All of his friends spoke in unison. "Oh Peter!"

"The big problem is those guards." Mike pointed at two large men standing at the entrance before motioning them to follow him.

One of the guards scratched the back of his shaved head before stopping four people who were trying to get past him and his partner. "Hey, you can't get in here."

"Of course we can." Mike, dressed as an old man told him. "This is a hotel isn't it?"

"Yes, but you need a reservation."

"Speak up boy, no one can hear a mumbler."

"I SAID YOU CAN'T GET IN WITHOUT A RESERVATION!"

"No need to shout, young man. I can hear you."

"You have a reservation?" The second guard asked.

"What was that?"

"He wants to know if we have a reservation." Micky, who was dressed as an old lady told him.

"Oh yeah, I have it right...uh,"

As Mike pretended to look for his pockets Davy and Peter, who were dressed as their kids, managed to sneak past the two guards and into the building. As Peter sucked on his lollipop Davy looked around at the large lobby. Being from a rich family, he could tell that Mr. Valdez filled this place with only the most expensive furniture and decorations. Where did he get the money to pay for all of this and all the hotels he bought? As he wondered if maybe these were places only for millionaires he heard Mike and Micky tell the guards that their kids ran off and most be in the hotel.

"That's our cue." Davy told Peter and they both ran off and into an elevator where they kept the door open.

Mike and Micky ran into the building, saw their two friends at the elevator, and then ran for it. The two guards stormed into the lobby and chased after them. But it was too late. All of the Monkees piled into the small space, let the doors close, and shot upward. They let out a sigh of relief as they pulled off their disguises.

"Why did I have to dress as a chick?" Micky asked as he straightened his hair, which was a mess from wearing the wig.

"Because you look lovely." Davy joked, getting a sarcastic laugh from the drummer.

When the elevator came to a stop the doors opened and the Monkees stepped out, wearing black burglar outfits as Peter continued to suck on his candy. They crept through the halls, pressing themselves against the wall, and tried to find Mr. Valdez's office as music played in the background.

"Would you please turn that off?" Mike asked and Micky turned off the boombox he was carrying.

"Sorry, Mike. I thought that it would help the mood."

After managing to sneak past more guards, the hotel maids, and a few of the hotel's guests, they finally found the room the has the words 'Office of Mr. Valdez' on it. Luckily it wasn't locked - because the writers couldn't think of any other way for them to get in - and as soon as they entered the Monkees began searching through his things, hoping to find something that might give them a clue.

"I've got it!" Davy shouted, holding up a piece of paper before he placed in on the desk so they could all look at it.

"So that's his plan." Mike said. "He's buying all the hotels to turn them into casinos."

"No wonder he has so much money."

"And if _that_ wasn't enough," Micky held up a list of names. "All of the reservations are for criminals."

Peter looked over Micky's shoulder to see the list. "Oh look, Bessie and the Bullets are playing tonight. Can we go see them?"

"Some other time, Pete." Mike told him, herding them all toward the door. "First we gotta alert the police about this."


	10. Part 10: The Professor

**Yes, I am finally back. I'm still writing my nove, but I think that also working on this will give me lots of writing practice and will keep me motivated. Enjoy the story :)**

* * *

"Well?" Mike asked, after Davy was woken up.

"I...kinda understand now." He couldn't explain it, but while in the machine he felt something powerful between the four of them. Something much more than a mere friendship. "But that Micky isn't here."

They both looked at Micky, who was watching Dorothy trying to play one of the Professor's hand held games, and Mike let out a sigh. He had hoped them all remembering would somehow bring them all together, but it looked like Davy still needed some work. Maybe after Micky went into the memory machine things would change. Or at least, he hoped so.

"So, how is this going to work?" Micky asked. "Do we just keep going back and forth with this memory stuff until we're all happy and hugging each other? Because I have a business to run."

The Professor grabbed his gaming device from Dorothy, who was really getting into it. "Yes, yes, I know, but this comes before that."

After realizing what he had said Mike crossed his arms. "How do you know?"

"What's that, my boy?"

"You said you know about his business. And earlier you weren't too happy to see him here."

The clock on the wall ticked away as everyone fell silent, not even breathing, until the Professor smiled and patted Mike's arm. "Of course I know who he is. I knew he owned Gleeb, but I didn't know he was the Micky Dolenz who was in a coma with the rest of you."

"I think you knew who he was."

The Professor's smile vanished. "You don't have any proof of that, my boy."

"Um," Peter pulled out a picture, the picture of the four of them together that he had taken. "But, you knew what he looked like."

For the first time the old man looked truly panicked. How could he let himself slip up? And what would happen after they found out? Then suddenly he thought of something. His trump card. "But you see, I thought the man in the photograph was another man. A sniper."

"But then why were you so shocked when Micky came in?" Davy asked.

The Professor's smile returned to his face. "I can't have someone with his reputation visiting me."

Micky jumped up from where he was sitting. "Hey!"

"If anyone saw me with him, think of what others would think."

Mike wanted to fight further, but he had nothing to fight with. What the Professor said made sense, even though it was obvious he was lying from the way he was sweating like a pig wearing winter clothes in a sauna. For now they had to play along, until they could find more evidence and make him tell them all he knew.

"Thanks for the little soup opera," Micky told them, walking toward the front door with Dorothy close behind. "But we really gotta split."

"Thanks for the food!" Dorothy shouted before closing the door behind them. "So, what do you think?"

"What do I think about what?"

Dorothy punched Micky's arm. "You know perfectly well, you idiot."

"How do you do that? First you're all over me, and then you're throwing punches."

"It's because I'm a woman. Mood slings come with the territory. Now answer my question."

"What question?" Micky joked.

She let out a sigh. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Don't worry," Micky suddenly stopped and she looked up at him. "I've got everything planned?"

"About that old guy or about what I should do with you?"

"Both."

"Well, spill it! What are you planning, Mr. Genius?"

"That's not how it works."

"Huh?"

"We can't show the plan to the audience. It'll spoil the surprise."

"What are you talking about?"

Micky chuckled before walking again. "Never mind. Just something we used to do."

"As in with your friends...before what happened?"

"Yeah."

"When are you going to tell them? You know, about how you four got into your coma."

"Hopefully never."

Dorothy grabbed onto the back of his shirt. "Don't you think they have the right to know?"

Micky turned to face her, as much as he could with her hand still grabbing onto the back of his shirt. "We'll talk about this later, okay?"

Dorothy looked into his eyes. "You always say that."

* * *

After the little argument downstairs the three Monkees were told to go into their room until further notice, but once they went in and the door closed they heard a quiet 'click' and they all knew that they had been locked in. Mike and Davy began examining the windows, hoping they could get out that way, but it was no use. They were stuck in here until the Professor let them out.

Mike sat on the bed and looked over at Peter, who was looking at the picture he had shown earlier. "You know, you really shouldn't have taken that."

"I know. But I'll give it back when we're all together again. Until then I need this."

"Need it for what?" Davy asked, sitting on his bed.

"To keep us together."

Mike and Davy looked at each other, half understanding what he was talking about and half thinking that he was as nutty as a fruitcake. But even if he was nutty they both wished they were more like him, full of hope. Just watching Peter as he smiled at the old picture made them feel like it was possible to go back to the time they couldn't remember.

* * *

When everyone else was asleep the Professor opened the large double doors and entered the large office. It still looked the same as it was before. The only things in the room were a bookshelf full of old scrolls, a desk, a laptop, old lamps that looked like they were made from the 1920s, and two chairs, with a skinny man sitting in the chair behind the desk.

The Professor slowly sat down in the chair facing the man. "I'm afraid I have terrible news. The boys, they-"

"I already know." The man said, anger in his voice.

"Forgive me. But what should I do? I know they don't believe me, and sooner or later they will know everything. Maybe you can put them in a coma again. Make them forget."

"Don't you think I would have done that if I could?"

"I'm sorry, I should have known."

"Yes, you should have. Even me and my master can only do so much."

"I understand, but what should I do about those boys?"

"All of you humans are the same," He said, rubbing his forehead. "Annoying!"

"I would not ask for your help if it wasn't urgent."

"Look for help someplace else."

"I am begging you!"

"'Ask and you shall receive' doesn't apply to this side."

"Please! If I fail he will have my head!"

"It will be a lot worse than just your head if you fail, Professor Schnitzler."

"I will do anything! Just tell me what I need to do!"

The skinny man sat back. "What you can do is find something else and leave here."

"But who can help me?"

"Why not the Doctor? He has succeeded in keeping humans quiet."

"I can't do that, he will kill them!"

"For your sake, you had better hope he doesn't."


End file.
